Malin Stark
by IhateThinkingOfLoginNames
Summary: 1st chapter is based on 1st episode and so on. I added a new member to the Stark family, but other than that I tried to be true to the series. I've been reading a lot of westeros wikipedia and I'm trying to keep things in line with the show and the culture in the books. Is about Malin's revenge. Summary sucks, sorry. Hope story is better.
1. Chapter 1

Malin Stark sat in the dark, almost lightless room, her and her sisters were expected to sew in. Malin had two sisters, little Arya, and her twin, Sansa. Sansa's neat stitches were praised obnoxiously by Septa Mordane and Malin caught Arya making a face towards them. Malin smirked and looked back down at her own sampler just as racous laughter was heard from outside. A second later the twang of an arrow followed and Malin figured out who was laughing about what. Her older brothers and Theon, who hadn't been shots themsleves when they first started, were probably out making merry at her second youngest brother, Bran's expense. She watched Arya carefully and saw a determined look flash across her face. Sowing was apparently over for her adventurous little sister.

Moments after Arya snuck away more laughter flowed inside. Malin sighed inwardly. She wasn't as interested in becoming a lady-warrior as her sister was, but that didn't mean she liked sitting in darkness trying to compete with Sansa's unnaturally small and even stitches. She excused herself from the more than doubtful Septa by saying she needed the privy and walked into the archery yard. Malin saw Bran dashing after Arya and smiled inwardly wondering what Arya'd done to embarress poor Bran now. She grimaced at a brace of dead chickens hanging near to where she stood, clogging the air with their stench and moved forward so she'd not have to look at them any longer. John, Rickon, and Robb stood gathering arrows from the target Malin figured Bran had been shooting at. Rickon saw her, screamed "Malin!" and ran right into her arms. Rickon was too big for Malin to carry him like she used to, but Rickon was Malin's especial favourite. Quite a few of her friends had been married, or fooling around with some farmhand, and everyone around her growing up, made Malin realize how much she wanted a family. She'd pretended Rickon was her baby and had dressed him up when they were both younger, but gradually she'd started to care for him, not just use him as a babydoll.

With Rickon still clinging to her leg, Malin straightened and saw Robb coming to greet her. John was engaged in a staring match with someone who stood on the balcony above her head. Malin would've teased him about a beautiful whore catching his attention, but could feel the frost from here, and so knew it was her mother he stared at.

"Sister, sowing over so-" Robb began to teasingly ask her, but she silenced him with a jerk of her head towards John. He sighed and peeled Rickon off her. Robb swung his arm around Malin's shoulders and her world brightened to a happiness of almost unbearable intensity. She leaned against him, careful to do nothing more than sisterly affection would permit.

"... useless to keep worrying about it, there's nothing we can do." Malin heard the tail end of whatever he'd been saying and nodded mechanically in agreement before his statement registered. Then she stopped and pulled out from under his arm so she'd be able to think straight.

"You think we should let people treat him like that?"

Seeing the indignant expression on her face, Robb's softened and he reached a hand out to cup her jaw and ran his thumb lightly across her cheek, "What can we do? She's our mother." Malin heard the double meaning and almost threw Robb into some dark corner to have her way with him. Luckily for their reputations, someone coughed quietly behind Malin and Robb was spared from her perversions. Malin watched his eyes widen in shock, as if someone had dumped water from one of the rivers over his head. She turned to face a small man in courier's livery and asked what it was he was botheriing the Young Wolf for.

"A deserter," he said, " Your father requires your presence, my Lord. Begging your pardon, Miss."

Robb looked like he was about to correct the little man as to her proper title, but she minutely shook her head at him and watched him walk away with a small degree of pain in her breast.

Malin wandered through Winterfell greeting those she knew, gradually working her way back towards the keep. When Malin got back to the main part of Winterfell, Arya came running up to her panting excitedly, "Did you hear about the deserter? Father took Bran!" Here she pouted, "He wouldn't let me come as well." Malin wanted to ride after them and drag Bran back, or atleast yell at her father for allowing Bran to come, but such things weren't done.

"There hasn't been a warrior queen for hundreds of years Arya," Malin said gently.

Arya's so very Stark face scrunched up and she looked like she was preparing for battle, "So you think I can't do it?"

"No Small One," Arya looked suprised. "Anyone can do anything if they fight hard enough for it. But being a lady-knight will require convincing people you can and proving those who doubt wrong. Now run along, I've to speak with Mother. We'll go riding later today?" Arya nodded and happily ran off, probably to pester the smith into giving her some sort of weapon. It wasn't lady-like but Malin couldn't say she didn't keep a dagger hidden in the folds of her dress. When Theon had asked her if she knew how to use it, she smiled her sweetest smile while inwardly roaring with laughter, and then said, "Stick 'em with the pointy end." John and Robb had started laughing even before she'd been able to release her own pent up guffaws.

"Malin! Sister, please wait a moment." Malin stiffened her spine, braced her shoulders, and turned to face Sansa.

"Yes Sansa?"

Sansa walked gracefully and Malin watched with a bit of jealousy as her lady-like sister approached. Theon had once told Malin she walked like a whore; a combination of swaying hips, a certain knowing, and a braggert's confidence. Malin replied that he walked like a Greyjoy; one who still hadn't gotten their landlegs. Sansa had, like most of the Stark children, inherited their mother's Tully red hair and blue eyes. Malin had gotten what she sometimes considered the short end of the stick, the Stark looks. Malin's nose was long, her face heart-shaped, her eyes were grey like winter's morning, and her ears stuck out like they were trying to catch everything that was happening around her. She didn't have Sansa's height or figure either. Malin came an inch or two higher than Sansa's shoulder and lacked the beginnings of curves Sansa had, though she'd already bled.

"Malin, I was wondering if you'd like to come with me to the seamtress? Mother says we may get new dresses because of the King's coming."

"The King's what?" Malin had trouble keeping her voice at a normal volume.

Sansa looked suprised, "Haven't the boys found you yet? We've got new pets and Mother told us the King was coming and to be presentable," Sansa looked at her disapprovingly, "Malin you haven't been wandering by yourself again have you?"

Malin turned on her heel, "Goodbye Sister dearest, I really must find the boys now!" and hurried off before Sansa could start on how her sisters ruined everything. Malin privately thought Sansa a bit immature. Before Malin saw her brothers she heard yipping from the new pets Sansa had been talking about. _Hounds? _she thought to herself.

She turned to corner and saw Robb and John and Theon playing with two wolf pups, one smaller than the other with white fur and red eyes, and the other with smoke grey fur and yellow eyes. Apart from the two pups and laughing boys, sitting as though she'd been born to rule them all was a slightly larger she-wolf pup. Her ice-blue eyes flew up to Malin and she strecthed and yawned before trotting over. Malin bent down and ruffled her soft dark fur. She immediately made up her mind to call the wolf Queen Bitch privately and take the time to actually think of an appropriate name to call her publicly. Malin saw a flea jump off the wolf and decided to find Maester Luwin for a concotion that'd keep the bugs off, and then she'd go bathe the pup. Malin looked up and saw Robb watching her, still, while the others moved around him. She blushed and smiled at him a little sadly before turning to go.

Weeks passed as Malin, Sansa, and Arya got new dresses fitted and sown with alarming speed, the boys got their hair shorn and had new robes made, the wolf pups grew and Queen Bitch and Lady got baths weekly, while the castle bustled with servants running two and fro. Malin and Robb began to find ways to see each other, both gradually growing bolder as hugs became longer, casual brushes increased, and famial kisses gradually moved across the cheek towards the mouth. It was about a month after the missive arrived that Bran came shouting into the dark horrid sowing room where Robb had just been pressed against Malin his hand up her skirt. He'd paused and they'd both heard the pitter patter of feet running down the hall and sprung apart, Malin's knees slightly shakey from Robb's attentions and his trousers forming a slight tent.

"The King's coming down the road! I saw him, he's coming right now!" Malin felt immediately guilty looking at Bran's happy innocence.

"Bran, were you climbing again?" At the sound of Robb's voice Malin shed any guilty feelings and wanted only to climb back into his arms. Bran smiled sortof sheepishly and dashed out of the room. Robb moved tofold Malin back into his arms but she held up a hand and he stopped, a questioning look on his face.

"The King is almost here," she said by way of explanation, meaning they both had to go become presentable wholesome Stark children.

"That's exactly why we should stay a moment longer. Imagine meeting the King like this," he gestured down at his tent and Malin giggled. He held out his arms and Malin stepped gratefully into them, her head tilted up for his kiss. Whenever Malin tried to remember things as they happened next, all she got was a jumbled mix of sensations and images, some in stark clarity. She distinctly remembered fumbling with the laces on his breeches, and digging her nails into his back as there was a sharp pain, and the sound of Robb's voice moaning her name. She remembered when the pain went away and the pleasure that took it's place, and she remembered how she felt powerful, like she'd gained some secret knowledge, when they finished.

Robb laced the back of her dress grumbling all the while he had no idea how girls got in and out of things, and then Malin laced his breeches for him trying to be seductive as she did so. It seemed to work since she could feel him getting hard again. Malin laughed and went to get ready. She'd heard Joffrey was a right royal prick and she wasn't always diplomatic.

"Where's Arya?" Lady Catelyn looked down the line of her children and couldn't see her youngest daughter. Malin grimaced, she'd tried to stand so no one would notice Arya's absence.

"Sansa, Malin, where's your sister?" Catelyn repeated. Sansa shrugged coldly and Malin pretended she hadn't heard. Thankfully Arya ran up then, an oversized helmet bobbing on her head.

"What're you doing with that on?" Ned Stark asked as he took the helmet off. Malin turned and grinned at John and Robb who were already snickering.

"Move!" Arya ordered Bran and Malin suddenly thought, _Queen Bitch_, and almost collapsed in gales of laughter.

Horse hooves echoed off the cobblestones as a helmed member of the Kingsguard rode in, followed by Prince Joffrey. Malin thought he looked like an ass but she caught Sansa's look of adoration and braced herself for a long period of being constantly disappointed in her twin. The man who followed the first two had to be Sandor Clegane, the Prince's personal hound, bluntly signified by the houndshead armour he wore. Next came a red carriage that made Malin think of gypsies and faraway places, followed by another Kingsguard and then finally, finally, the king himself. Winterfell kneeled as one to the fat man who could barely sit his horse. He was helped down by his guards and gestured with one gloved hand for Malin's father to rise, telling everyone else it was alright to stand aswell. Sansa rose gracefully but Malin stumbled and would have fallen if Robb hadn't caught her elbow. His touch sent electric tingles down her spine and she blushed when she smiled in thanks, still warmed by the glow of their private moments earlier.

"My lord," Ned greeted the king. Malin refocused on the proceedings and caught one of the Kingsguard looking at her curiously. He still had his helmet on but she thought she saw a flash of blonde hair so he must be-

"You've got fat," the King growled. Malin's jaw dropped. She quickly closed it as her father raised an eyebrow to the King and they started laughing, ending the several seconds worth of awkward silence.

Robert hugged her mother and fondly exclaimed, "Cat!" before ruffling Rickon's hair. Rickon was still pouting about not being allowed to stand with Malin.

The King was speaking again but Malin's attention had been caught by Cersei Lannister descending from the gypsy wagon. She was slim and had flahing green eyes and a mane of golden hair. Her younger two children had descended before her, but they weren't quite as striking as their mother.

"Where's the imp?" Arya asked, a bit too loud.

"Will you shut up?" Sansa snapped at the same time as Malin quietly told her to mind her manners.

"What have we here?" Robert asked as he moved to stand in front of Robb. "You must be Robb," he said shaking Robb's hand.

"My, you're pretty ones," he said standing in front of Sansa and Malin. "These are the twins Ned?" the King asked and looked back for confirmation before moving on.

"Your name is?" he asked Arya. She answered with a somewhat reluctant expression on her face.

"Show us your muscles," he asked Bran and cheerily told him, "You'll be a soldier," making Bran light up at the prediction.

The Kingsquard who'd been looking at Malin took his helmet off and shook his hair out as Arya said, again too loudly, "That's Jaime Lannister, the Queen's twin brother."

Sansa responded just as rudely as before, "Will you please shut up!" Malin sighed and wished she were elsewhere.

"Malin?" Queen growled from her spot by the fire, her legs still in the air from Malin's bellyrub. Malin turned and saw Maester Luwin. She quickly got up and curtsied to the old man before offering him a chair. He shook his head and continued, "Your father wishes to see you in his study."

Malin strode through the halls, head high, chest out, shoulders out, back straight, trying to look as not guilty as possible. When she got to her father's study the first person she saw was Rob, who smiled shakily. _He wouldn't be able to smile at all if we were found out, would he?_ she thought desperately.

"Malin, I've brought you all here since I wish to discuss an offer the King made me." On the words "you all" Malin was able to see Sansa, her mother, and John, not just Robb and her father's imposing figure behind the desk. Malin thought her mother looked rather like she was sucking on lemons. "Robert has asked me to the capitol to be Hand to the King. He offers to marry Joffrey to either you, Sansa," Sansa beamed, "or you, Malin," Robb bleached white. I wish to discuss things as a family, Winter is coming, and we need to be in agreement."

"I don't think you should accept Father," Malin's voice was shaky and her knees were worse off, but she felt in her gut that the Starks couldn't leave Winterfell. "Winter is coming and the North needs Starks, and the Starks need to be together."

"You have no desire to be the next queen? Or for the honors that would accompany the title?" Eddard Stark asked his eldest daughter seriously.

Malin felt like a stubborn petulant child when she said, "Winter is coming." Robb walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her in as familial way as he could manage. Malin realized she was trembling. Sansa looked at Malin, shocked that she was uninterested in the fairytale land and prince that lay in wait to the south. It didin't take long for Sansa to recover and speak rather passionately, though Malin felt she was being insipid, about the South and how Sansa loved Joffrey. Malin felt like hitting Sansa and left in the middle of her twin's speech with Robb following on her heels.

"C'mon Malin. I'll take you up to your room so you can get ready for the feast," Robb said gently and took her hand, leading her up to her chamber. Malin stayed quiet as he led her on, her anger bubbling, but Malin didn't break in public. As soon as her door shut Malin wheeled and shouted, "What is wrong with her?!"

"I know Love, I know," he moved to comfort her but Malin paced angrily, smacking Sansa's face with the heels of her boots. "I don't understand how she can't realize that something's wrong. And that boy! I saw him throwing rocks at cats! He's insane like all the bloody Lannisters!"

"Hush, Malin. There's a Lannister right below you," Robb implored her. After a few more minutes of Malin angrily ranting and Robb being obnoxiously kind and honourable, Malin collapsed on the bed where Robb had taken up residence.

"You have to stay here Robb," Malin said brokenly, her head in her hands.

Robb pulled her head to his chest and said quietly, "I know."

Malin looked up at him tears gathering in the corners of her eyes, "But I have to go." On the last word Malin's voice cracked and she sobbed quietly against his chest. Malin's long fingers didn't fumble as she sat up and unlaced the back of her dress.

"Malin, what are you- Someone might hear." Malin pulled her dress completely off started taking off Robb's clothes while he stared at her nakedness. She was pale and leggy, with a tiny waist, a shock of dark hair over her mound, and beautiful breast buds that rose and fell with every breath.

"Please, Robb, just let me have this. I'll be gone and then married off and you will be too and we'll never see each other again." She swung her leg over him so she straddled him and leaned over him to trail featherlight kisses from his temple to his collarbone.

Robb groaned and flipped over on top of her, "That's not going to happen." Malin didn't argue with him, she just let him love her until she absolutely had to get ready for the banquet.

Out of the new dresses she'd had made you'd think something would've stood out, but every dress Malin had her maid pull out made her feel she was going to be sick. Her mother came in and took one look at an overly-emotional tearstained Malin sitting on a field of new dresses and threw the maid out. She pulled Malin to her feet and sat her in front of the mirror to do her hair.

"Malin, do you remember when you were a little girl and you kept trying to pick the lock on my southern dresses? You wanted to wear them for dress up, remember?"

"I'm not Sansa, new dresses don't make everything all better," Her mother cast her a disapproving look but Malin knew she'd let it go.

"Perhaps you should see the dresses before you say no," Catelyn said with a twinkle in her eye. "And imagine how jealous Sansa'd be and how lovely your new boy would think you looked."

Malin shot out of her chair, "My new what?" and realised too late an over reaction wasn't the best idea. "How'd you know?" she asked more calmly. Catelyn smiled and said, "A mother always knows. But Malin," she tried to find the right way to phrase her thought delicately, "Your husband will be picked for you. Love comes later." Malin sighed.

"Yes, Mother."

Malin self-consciously looked down at her dress. She was dying to fidget and rearrange it but kept her composure. The dress really was beautiful, it was a dark midnight blue and showed all of her shoulders. With her almost black hair pulled sharply back into a series of intricate braids, her slender neck and elegant collarbones were exposed for all the world to see. Her mother had let her borrow lip-paint and her lips' ruby-redness drew the eye. Malin's fingertips rested lightly on Prince Joffrey's arm. She got the feeling that they both would've preferred Sansa to be on his arm. The King was escorted in by Lord Stark and the two wives trailed behind, then came the children paired up with their opposite house. Jaime Lannister and some other Kingsguard guarded the king, though if Malin had to put money on who he'd protect, she'd plunk down a good deal on the Queen over the King. The Lannister man kept looking back at her and she had at first ignored him but was now quite taken with making strange faces at him when he did look back. She liked the fact that she could see him struggling not to laugh. Making the Kingslayer laugh, who would've thought.

The hall transformed, everyone laughed and drank and the bards sang. Arya flung food at Sansa and Malin thought she'd never laughed so hard in her life. It was all so fleeting, and Malin felt that she'd never be here with all these people she loved so well again. Malin was tippsy, teetering on drunk, when Robb made her get up and sing a duet with him. Somehow they ended up singing a hymn to the new gods.

Gentle Mother, font of mercy,

Save our sons from war, we pray.

Stay the swords and stay the arrows,

Let them know a better day.

Gentle Mother, strength of women,

Help our daughters through this fray.

Soothe the wrath and tame the fury,

Teach us all a kinder way.

Gentle Mother, font of mercy,

Save our sons from war, we pray.

Stay the swords and stay the arrows,

Let them know a better day.

Malin got halfway through and realised Robb had stopped singing and everyone had started listening, her voice faltered but she kept singing and finished with her most graceful drunk curtsy. Robb caught her arm before she fell and the room exploded with laughter.

"Let's dance!" Malin said to Robb and she saw him concentrate very hard before he said, "I don't think I can." Malin giggled and almost kissed him, but then she saw Jaime Lannister looking at her again and she marched over to him, stumbling a few times and ruining her already shredded dignity.

"Why do you keep staring at me Kingslayer?" Malin poked him in the breastplate for emphasis but then looked down at her wounded finger, confused.

"Because I have a penchent for thirteen year old boys and I think you might be in my way," he said with sarcasim Malin would only pick up on later.

"I'm not a boy!" She said indignantly. Something poked at Malin's brain. If she could just concentrate, suddenly the ground seemed much closer and then quickly metal wrapped around her.

"Perhaps you should leave thinking to those best at it," suggested a voice from behind her ear.

"Fine," She answered tartly. "Then I won't tell you that I _think _you'd best let go."

"Why would I ever want to do that?" came the teasing voice.

"Because," Malin invented a reason at random, "Your Mistress-Queen is looking this way." The Kingslayer let go of her like she'd burned him and at the shock on his face, Malin realised she'd been correct in her wild accusation even through her fog. She also realised that she needed to stay where there were lots of people. If she thought some drunk ninny was going to ruin Robb's life by telling of their afair, said Ninny would be dead faster than they could ask for mercy. And Malin wasn't a professional killer. The Kingslayer grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the hall before she could so much as peep. Malin fumbled around in her dress for her knife, but then realised she was too uncoordinated to use it. She'd have to be atleast a little more sober than she was at present. Jaime slammed her against a wall and put his arm against her throat so she couldn't move.

"Like it rough, Lannister?" She asked lightly.

He grinned at her, "It's a shame I might have to kill you Funnyface."

"I have no objections to skipping that portion of the evening," Malin said, her adrenaline helping her to think through her wine. "I'm sure you can think why killing me might be problematic. It's not as if I'm exactly clean in this situation." He was obviously wieghing her words. Malin couldn't quite resist saying, "Perhaps you should leave thinking to those best at it," as he took his time in deciding what to do. Jaime smiled and removed his arm from her windpipe. Malin crumpled to ground, bruising the hip she fell on and sucked in a great gulp of air. Jaime crouched down his movements sleek and lethe as one of the mountain cats that sometimes came down, "Now, here's what's going to happen. You will marry into my family, either myself or my brother since I hear Joff's been taken, nothing is expected of you, but your fortunes will be tied to ours. I trust this is incentive enough to stay silent?"

"You threatening to expose Robb is incentive enough, Kingslayer," Malin said, her voice slightly raspy from his mailed arm being against her throat.

"Are you declining? A husband who expects no heirs is a rare thing. If you and I are married, as long as you permit me to see Cersei, I care not whom you bed." He paused as if a new thought had struck him, "Though, I am rather curious as to what you do to make him scream so loud?" Jaime chuckled at the horrified expression on her face. "My brother would offer you the same deal, except he expects to keep seeing his whores, not Cercei. I imagine he'd be quite pleased if you forbid him from seeing Cercei."

"And if I decline?" Malin asked cautiously, her eyes on Queen who was slowly stalking up behind Jaime.

He looked suprised, "Why, then I would throw you out of your tower window." Malin mentally examined herself. She thought she could suprise him and walk away without having to marry the Imp. Everyone knew Kingsguard couldn't marry. She stood up slowly, seductively she hoped, and leaned up onto her tiptoes to whisper in his ear, "You want to know if I can make you scream?" Her dagger blurred up to his neck and Malin smiled, "I'm willing to try."

"You're a madwoman," he said in wonder. "How could you hope to beat a member of the Kingsguard?"

Queen growled menacingly behind him and Malin's grin widened, "That's how. I'm going to leave now. You're not going to threaten me again. Do you understand?"

Jaime Lannister looked as though he'd misplaced his words. Malin sighed as if disappointed with a small child and began to back away, "Goodbye, Kingslayer. That was quite fun. Let's do it again sometime?" Then she winked and ducked into an alleyway, sprinting all the way home.

The next day, Bran fell.


	2. Chapter 2

Once I got to the end of this chapter, I realised my description was wrong. I deviated from the show with this chapter. Sorry, I couldn't imagine Malin standing there and shouting through the Joffrey/Butcher's boy conflict. Hope it's okay, feedback appreciated. Thanks to x XRoweenaJAugustineX x for being the first person to read one of my stories, I tried to address Malin's lack of fear, atleast a little.

Malin had never been so angry in all of her life. She paced around her room, not sure that she wouldn't fall through the floor from the force of her steps. Queen watched warily from the bed. Jaime Lannister had been a shock. Malin had felt like she was flying, that she and Robb would never be caught, to have the Kingslayer figure them out in the short amount of time he'd been here had left her reeling. But she'd been so certain of their mutually assured destruction that she'd sortof, trusted him. She felt they were almost tied together because of their shared secrets, and suprising to her, a little because she liked him. Shame they weren't related. But to hear that Bran had fallen from a tower window the day after the Kingslayer had threatened to throw her from hers, Malin felt murderous. She wasn't quite sure what to do with herself, she wanted to kick and scream and beat Jaime Lannister bloody, but such things weren't done and there was no way to prove he'd done it. The only thing that really stopped her from trying to kill him, was she knew she'd never prevail in any fight they had. She had to, she had to what? Become an assassin and learn to stealthily slit his throat? Become a knight and best him, bloodying his stupid extravagent golden armour? Become a thief and steal his gold?_ Steal his gold- wait, _Malin thought, _I could marry the Imp or Jaime and ruin them. One will be Lord of Casterly Rock, and their Lady will have plenty of opportunitites to undermine anything they might try. They've enough enemies that if I took their power, their gold, I'm sure they'd begin to fall._

Malin wasn't quite sure she was educated or quick enough to out think the Imp, but Jaime thought in straight lines and acted brashly, she might be able to outwit him. She knew if she accepted Jaime's offer from the previous night directly after he'd thrown her brother from a window, even Jaime would realise something was wrong. She'd go south and become better aquainted with him, Malin wasn't Arya, she couldn't fight him as a man fights another man, but she could fight him a woman's way. And she might win.

Malin stopped her pacing and headed to her trunks to pack. Her gut twinged at her, asking meekly if she wouldn't rather stay in the North, where the Starks were needed? Malin ignored it and packed everything with a neatness Septa Mordane would've been envious of. Her father had come earlier in the morning to say they were leaving today. Malin hadn't had words then for how she felt. She stepped outside and called a servant to take her trunk down. Malin was a little calmer after having thought of a way to hurt the Lannisters back, but no less angry. She walked with heavy feet, and Queen on silent paws, to where Bran lay sleeping. The Queen was leaving Bran's sickroom when Malin got there. Having her so close to Bran made Malin tremble with suppressed emotion. She swallowed what she could of her rage and walked inside.

Bran lay on the pillows, unsually pale and swallowed by the furs he was covered with. Her anger dissappated. Malin felt that no one should be angry near Bran, if he was to get better, they needed to feel gentle. Her mother sat working on a talisman to the gods, her eyes fixed on Bran. Malin wrapped her arms around her mother, who didn't seem to notice and simply kept working on her talisman.

"The Queen lost a child you know," Her mother said.

"And she told you this now? It's not something you need to hear while watching over your own sick child," Malin said, suprised at the Queen's lack of grace.

"Peace, Malin. She lost a little black haired boy," Catelyn sounded as though she was about to sob. _A black haired boy? But she has three children with golden hair, one of them would have dark hair if the gods were flipping a coin to decide their hair colour. Is Jaime their father? _Keeping her thoughts off her face, Malin went around to the other side of the bed to kiss Bran goodbye and then left, resisting the urge to completely melt down. She couldn't believe that Jaime and Cersei had had time for children, while she and Robb had only had a month. She had to give him up. And Bran, oh poor Bran. She knew he'd get better and live, but was it really getting better to a little boy who wanted so badly to be a knight? Who loved climbing so well? Queen mournfully huffed at Malin's hand. Malin bent down and buried her face in Queen's silky fur.

They found John at the smith's getting a ridiculously tiny sword made. Malin assumed it wasn't for John. She was talking to the smith's apprentice, a young man who needed a hair cut quite badly, while John was anxiously watching the making of his small sword when Jaime Lannister asked, "A sword for the wall?" Malin's spine stiffened and she turned around to see him, more handsome than he had been at the banquet, though without the darkness it was obvious how much older than thirteen he was. His golden hair was perfect, every hair in place and he wore a light leather coat and lighter coloured breaches. He didn't seem to see Malin at all.

"I already have one," John answered.

"Good man. Have you swung it yet?" He asked with a hint of condescenion. Malin wanted to rake his pretty face with her paws- hands. What had she said paws for?

"'Course I have," John said, not sounding at all like the friendly northerners they all were.

"At someone I mean," he answered looking at John as if he was just a child, though he was a few years older than Malin. Malin couldn't see John's face but she guessed his expression said that, No, he hadn't killed anyone recently. "Strange thing, first time you cut a man. Realise we're nothing but sacks of meat, blood, and some bone to keep it all standing." He seemed to remember himself and held out his hand, "Let me thank you, ahead of time, for guarding us all from the perils beyond the wall; wildlings and white walkers, and what not." The Lannister used his grip on John's hand to pull him closer, "We're grateful to have good, strong men like you protecting us," The Kingslayer finished sarcastically before clapping John on the shoulder and turning to go.

"We've guarded the kingdoms for eight thousand years," John said.

The Lannister man turned back, "Is it 'we' already? Have you taken your vows then?"

"Soon enough," John was outmatched and Malin had started half-cringing when he spoke.

"Give my regards to the Night's Watch. I'm sure it will be thrilling to serve in such an elite force, and if not- It's only for life," With his final belittlement delivered Jaime Lannister walked away. He didn't once look at Malin. So he knew that she knew what he'd done to Bran. Or perhaps he felt guilty Malin thought gleefully.

"Lannister! Ser!" Malin was not of a disposition to let things lie and she yelled loud enough that it would've been remarked upon if he hadn't stopped.

"Stark? Lady?" He asked, looking at her as if he hadn't a care in the world.

"I was wondering if you might escort me to my rooms? There are rumours of a golden-haired vagabond running about." He smiled at her caustically and offered her his arm.

Queen trailed along behind them as they walked in silence. When they were only a few feet from the door to Malin's rooms she asked, "Do you ever wish you'd had a family Kingslayer?"

"Are you interested Stark?" he asked cuttingly.

Malin continued on as if she hadn't heard him, "I suppose you're lucky. That you're so near the Queen and her family, it might be like they were your own flesh and blood," Malin finished visciously, happy to have found a way to twist a knife in his gut, even if it only was metaphorically.

"You're going to get yourself killed if you keep going on like this," He answered calmly.

"Well, the Stark children are dropping like flies aren't they?" Malin snapped and slammed into her room before he could respond. Gods, why couldn't he lose his temper or be scared, or repentant? He was just a ball of sarcasim and arrogance with some pretty blonde hair stuck on. Malin flopped on her bed and sighed. She was just, so tired. She was so angry and sad and there wasn't anyone to help her and she had to be perfect in public, and it made her just want to curl up in some cave in the mountains with Queen.

"Malin?" Robb's voice came softly through the door. "I've brought Rickon," he said trying to coax her out. Malin smiled in resignation, she couldn't resist Rickon's dimples and baby curls. When she opened the door he just looked petulantly up at her, his wolf Shaggydog even looked moody. Malin shot a questioning look at Robb who shrugged and said, "He thinks none of you are going to come back."

"Really?" Malin looked seriously at Rickon, "Rickon won't you see me again?"

He looked at her and stubbornly shook his head.

"Well then, perhaps we can make the best of the hours we've got left?"

Rickon appeared to consider her suggestion before nodding and holding his arms out to her. Malin shot Robb a grateful look over the top of Rickon's head as she carried him down into the courtyard where they could play. He was definitely getting too big for this, but oh, how she'd miss him.

A few hours later, after many more tearstained goodbyes, they set out, a great meandering cavalade of riders, most heading home. Malin was extremely uncomfortable. She'd lost John Snow to the Wall, Robb, Rickon, Theon, their mother, and Bran to Winterfell, and Winter was coming. And horses made her very, very, nervous. To make matters worse Sansa and Joffrey were riding with her, and Malin was enmeshed in the parade too deeply to escape, as Arya had. Malin was horribly grateful when they made camp.

The days began to take on a pattern, they rode for most of the day, made camp in the afternoon, and then Arya would disappear with the butcher's boy, and Sansa would be either with Jeyne Poole or Joffrey. Malin found a friend in one of the court ladies and they spent their time discussing some of the more controversial literature that had come out recently. She occasionally saw the Kingslayer training and always hurried past, though she suspected he wouldn't have bothered with her even if she'd walked slowly by. Malin was exceptionally pleased when she noticed the hem of her dresses were rising and she was finally getting taller. She smiled at herself triumphantly and called Queen for their walk. It was rather interesting to Malin to see the changes as they made their way slowly south, and Queen always found some type of snack on their meandering ramble. The direwolf's fur had gradually darkened in color to an inky midnight, though her eyes were still as frosty blue as before, she'd about tripled in size since Malin had first gotten her, and now dwarfed any normal sized wolf. They were both extremely smug about their changes in size.

"Malin!" Sansa's voice called lightly from behind Malin and she cringed, not wanting to see Sansa, but feeling a little bad about avoiding her. Malin turned and smiled brightly just as Sansa accidently walked into Ser Illyn Payne. Sansa bleached and Malin winced in sympathy and made her way over to Sansa's side as Sansa prettily murmured, "Pardon me, Ser." The man just stared and Malin was about to tug Sansa away when a mailed hand descended on Sansa's shoulder and they both jumped.

"Do I frighten you so much girls?" the Hound asked. He looked at Ser Payne, "Or is it him there that's making you shake?" Ser Payne looked indignant. "He frightens me too," the Hound continued. "Look at that face," he said sarcastically. Sansa looked down and then looked up at Ser Payne and apologized. The man walked off and Malin remembered her friend saying something about him never speaking.

"Why won't he speak to me?" Sansa asked the Hound. He explained the mad king had had his tongue ripped out.

"Speaks damn well with his sword though," Joffrey said swaggering up behind them. "Ser Illyn Payne, the King's justice," Sansa's smile dimmed at this epitet. Joffrey leaned in to explain the obvious, "The Royal Executioner." Malin lost focus for a moment as a boy who looked just like her Robb went past. Her chest tightened and Malin thought she might faint before she controlled herself and heard Sansa say, "Stay Lady." Apparently they were going walking. Malin was still slightly dazed and not entirely sure if she was included in this invitation, but she came along anyway, Queen against her leg for support. They walked along a river, waves of resentment coming off Sansa at her sister's intrusion, all of which were promptly ignored by Malin. Joffrey was encouraging Sansa to drink and ignoring Malin in his attentions to her sister. Clacking noises drifted lasily through the summer air and soon Arya and the butcher's boy were revealed.

"Arya!" yelled Sansa in disapproval as the butcher's boy landed a whack on Arya's arm. They'd been sparring. Malin struggled to hide her smile.

"What're you doing here? Go away!" Arya yelled back. She smiled briefly when she saw Malin behind Joffrey and Sansa.

"Your sister?" Joffrey asked and Sansa nodded. "And who are you boy?" he asked imperiously.

"Micah, mi'Lord," the butcher's boy answered, dropping the wooden stick he'd been sparring with.

"He's the butcher's boy," Sansa said radiating disapproval.

"Sansa!" Malin reprimanded as Arya said, "He's my friend!"

"Butcher's boy who wants to be a knight, eh?" Joffrey asked prowling up to Micah. Malin was suddenly very nervous and Queen growled low in the back of her throat. "Pick up your sword Butcher's Boy, let's see how good you are," Joffrey commanded drawing his sword.

"She asked me to mi'Lord, she asked me to," Micah said nervously.

"My Prince, you can't fight a butcher's boy!" Malin blurted out.

He turned around dangerously, "Who asked you?"

"Imagine for a second, if you will, how it would sound," Joffrey's face darkened and he started to turn back around to Micah. "Our glorious Prince in a fight with a simple butcher's boy. It's a dog's job not one for a golden prince like yourself. Your first battle should be something to sing of, a fight between great knights." Joffrey apparently decided to ignore Malin.

"That was my lady's sister you were hitting d'you know that?" he asked Micah menacingly raising his sword toward's MIcah's cheek.

"Stop it!" Arya said.

"Joffrey think!" Malin yelled.

"Stay out of this," Malin looked at Sansa in disbelief as she defended her sadistic betrothed.

"I won't hurt him... Much," Joffrey said drawing his sword across Micah's cheek.

Malin saw Arya's arm muscles tense and threw herself across the clearing at her sister before she got them all in more trouble. They both fell into the river as Sansa screamed, "Arya!"

"What happened?" Joffrey asked as Micah ran in the other direction. Queen whined and paced along the bank as Malin struggled to stay afloat. It was too cold to swim in the North. She looked around for Arya and couldn't see her sister's bobbing head anywhere.

"SANSA GET HELP!" Malin screamed before taking a deep breath and plunging under the fast moving water for Arya. It was a green roaring world under the water and it was only because Arya thrashed so much that Malin had even a hint of where she was. Malin pushed herself down to where Arya was, feeling like a drowning duck. She'd just gotten her arm around Arya when she realised why Arya couldn't get herself out, her skirt had gotten caught under a piece of driftwood and was snagged. The current kept trying to drag Malin away and she didn't think she'd be able to get back to Arya if she came up for air. Her vision tunneling, Malin pulled weakly on Arya's skirt. A hand wrapped around her waist before she lost consciousness.

Malin woke up to the Kingslayer's mouth on hers. When he realised her eyes were open he moved and Malin rolled over and hurled buckets of river water.

Jaime Lannister grinned down at her, "That bad?" Arya was sitting next to Jaime, her arm around Nymeria. When she saw that Malin was up, she ran off. Malin vaguely wondered where she was going.

"Exactly that bad, Old Man," Malin responded weakly before lying on her back in her dripping dress and simply resting in the warm sun. Jaime smiled as if he knew she thought he was pretty despite her insult. He somehow managed to not look like a drowned cat after his swim, which both Malin and Arya did. Queen whined and pranced over to Malin's side to lick her cheek. Malin groaned and sat up.

"Where's the butcher's boy?" she asked Jaime.

"Who?" He quirked an eyebrow at her.

"Who's in trouble? Who does Joffrey want?" Malin was a bit panicked now that the last of the riverwater had left her brain and she grabbed his wrists, imploring him to tell her what was happening.

"I have no idea. Your sister came running in, screaming about you drowning in the river."

"Do you atleast know where Joffrey is?" Malin asked, exasperated. He raised his eyebrow, a definitive no. This was bad, who knew what that worm-lipped bastard had said or done. This was good, they had a rapport, he'd saved her, they were partway to being friendly enough for him to believe her infatuated and his ego'd help. He removed his wrists from her grasp and stood, holding out a hand to Malin. When he pulled her to her feet, Malin made sure to stand too close and look up into his Lannister green eyes. She stood that way for several seconds before blinking as if coming out of a daze, then she ran off, smirking to herself and thinking on how clever she was.

Malin wasn't running solely to try and play Jaime Lannister, she had to help, she had to prevent whatever Joffrey might do. Her long legs burned, not used to the exercise, as Queen loped easily beside her, showing off. Sansa was obviously going to be no help and Malin was worried what a boy like Joffrey might feel was repayment for what had almost happened. She got to her father's rooms as a guard exited. Malin's stomache turned over and she looked around for a place to hide, not seeing any shadowy exits. She froze, every muscle tensed, her eyes following the guardsman. He walked closer, and closer, and past her. Malin breathed a sigh of relief before hurrying into her father's quarters.

"Where's Arya?" Malin asked, craning her neck to look behind her father's desk as if Arya might be hiding there.

"She was here earlier. She told me how you tackled her to save her from a snake. I sent a courier to the Queen asking if it hadn't bitten Joffrey." Malin was impressed that Arya had thought to say she'd been saved from a snake. Her father pulled out one of the chairs in front of his desk and offered it to her. Malin shook her head, thinking, _What about Sansa? _If Sansa had told Joffrey why Malin had truly tackled Arya, then her father had just lied to the Queen.

"Have you seen Sansa?"

Malin thought she saw a flicker of unhappiness run across his face at her question but he answered, "She found me a few moments before Arya did."

Malin's forehead wrinkled as she frowned at him, "Then you know-"

Her father held up a finger to shush her and said, "_I _sent the Queen a letter." Malin nodded slowly, comprehension dawning. Her father had thought to say it was a snake. Malin smiled in relief knowing her father would take care of whatever problems arose.

"May I be excused then? I thought I might go find some dry clothes before supper?" Ned nodded his assent and Malin turned to go.

"And Malin?" She stopped without turning around, her hand on the doorknob. "You did well saving your sister from that," Here he paused and Malin imagined her father making an expression of distaste at the lies already blooming, "snake."


	3. Chapter 3

Sorry this took me so long, I had finals all last week. Hope you like it :)

"He did _what_?" Malin asked Arya incredulously. Her little sister looked downright murderous and Malin felt sick as Arya told Malin how Joffrey'd had his dog kill Micah. Malin had told him fighting Micah was a dog's work- Oh! Why hadn't she thought before she spoke? She'd just meant to help, and maybe she'd inspired Joff. Arya didn't seem to think it was Malin's fault, she'd snuck into Malin's rooms to talk to her. Malin wasn't willing to risk losing her sister by reminding her. They stayed up talking late into the night and Malin gradually came to realize that Arya was just as motivated to avenge Micah, as Malin was to avenge Bran. Maybe they really were like wolves, fiercely protective of their pack, wild things, strong things. Queen looked up at Malin from her spot by the fireplace as Malin and Arya talked on the Inn's bed, her eyes seemed to say, 'It took you this long to realize why I like you?"

Arya, Sansa, and Malin all sat squished together in the second row of their wagon, the back covered and filled with the north, the front row occupied by the driver and their Septa. Each one of them looked around in amazement at the size and bustle of their new city as they rode through it and into the Red Keep. As soon as their father dismounted from his horse, a little man came up, a page perhaps, and requested their father's presence in the small council.

"Get the girls settled in. I'll be back in time for supper," Eddard ordered Septa Mordane. He looked at Jory, the captain of their guard next, "Jory, you go with them."

Malin was perfectly happy to wander through the new city for a few hours while her father was occupied, but since she hadn't figured out where all the nooks and crannies were yet, she wasn't sure she'd be able to escape both Septa Mordane and Jory's notice. She decided that planning for her impending nuptials was the best course of action if she couldn't explore as she would've liked to. Afterall Jaime was in the Kingsguard, an organization much like the Night's Watch he was so superior to; they served for life and never married. She'd have to figure out a way around that. Malin also felt significantly out of depth, everyone here was older and more knowledgable and they all were skilled with intrigue. Malin firmly believed that where there was a will there was a way, but she also thought learning as much as she could about the people and places she'd come to know wouldn't hurt.

Malin and Queen took their time and got settled into their new rooms in the Tower of the Hand before Malin whistled, and off they went to the library. Malin heard Arya swishing something, probably a practice sword, through the air in her room, and Sansa practicing her scales as they walked out through the tower. Sansa and Malin were both equally talented singers, but Sansa definitely worked harder and practiced more and her abilities had started to outstrip Malin's. The sky was blue with puffy white clouds and the air was much hotter than Malin was used to, or dressed for, and she worried she might start to sweat if she kept wearing her Northern clothes in this heat. Malin was pondering asking her father if a new wardrobe might be possible, when she saw the Kingslayer storming, or as close to storming as she thought he was likely to get, out of some building or other.

Malin had seen the Queen and knew exactly how beautiful she was. But her lack of grace in speaking to her mother, made Malin unsure as to exactly who she was and what exactly she, Malin, needed to do that Cersei didn't. Malin figured whoever she was, Jaime would have atleast some degree of loyalty to her, and that directness was not the best course of action. She needed him to think she liked him, but he also needed to think that she wasn't a silly teenager, which she was, and he had to want to follow her when she walked past, be intrigued by her. There were plenty of women who would've loved to have the Kingslayer in their beds, Malin had to be different and dazzling and flattering and insulting and unavailable all at the same time. And so she ignored him and sasheyed past with Queen, not flickering an eyelid in his direction.

Malin felt as smug as a sun-warmed wolf when she heard the Lannister's footsteps following her, but decidedly less so when he trapped her between his arms and the wall. Queen growled warningly low in her throat, but sensing that her servant was in no real danger, sat back.

"You're forming a habit Kingslayer," Malin said with half a toss of her hair. A full toss was prevented by the wall behind her back.

"Won't you be kind to me Nymphet?" He asked, trailing a finger down her neck. He smiled as her eyes darkened with desire, but Malin knew who was the pawn in this situation, and pawns don't take queens.

"You are too presumptious Ser," She slipped daintily under his arms. "I'm not Cersei. You can't go rifling through my skirts for comfort. Much as I like you Kingslayer, I'm no one's revenge or balm or whatever it is you're looking for. I'm also a first choice, not something you play with when Cersei tells you to scamper off."

"Oh, you're not something to be toyed with?" He asked sarcastically before leaning in close to Malin's ear, "Well, your brother toyed with you. He'll marry some highborn virgin, and you? You're ruined. The best offer you're going to get is to be my second choice painted whore." He leaned back with an air of complete nonchalance and Malin's blood boiled.

"Plenty of highborn virgins have their maidenheads broken by horseback riding," Malin whispered furiously, trying not to attract undue attention by ripping his head off. She turned on her heel and stormed away. Malin was halfway to the library before she realized she was acting like a child and not doing a wonderful job in dangling him from her string. _Maybe he likes childish women who can't control their tempers? _Malin thought hopefully, not truly believing the thought even as it passed through her mind.

After a somewhat fruitful search, there was no book that dealt specifically with court intrigue and the book on the births in noble families was in Grand Maester Pycelle's care, Malin and Queen headed back to the Tower of the Hand. Supper began as a horribly uncomfortable affair with Malin chewing slowly, trying to get food past the viscous air that filled the room. Arya began to stab her knife into the table grating on Malin's slightly raw nerves.

"Enough of that young Lady! Eat your food," Septa Mordane ordered.

"I'm practicing," Arya said angrily before resuming her attack on the poor table.

"Practicing for what?" Sansa asked, her tone doing nothing to diffuse the air of hostility.

"The Prince," Arya answered earning her shocked looks from Sansa and Malin both. Malin wasn't suprised she wanted to kill Joffrey, just suprised she'd say so where Lannister ears might hear.

"Arya stop!" exclaimed their Septa.

"He's a liar and a coward and he killed my friend," she said, still stabbing the damned table.

"The Hound killed your friend," Sansa said.

"The Hound does what Joffrey tells him to," Malin said quietly.

"You're both idiots!" Sansa angrily said.

"You're a liar and if you told the truth Micah'd be alive," Arya answered with one final stab into the table.

"Enough!" Septa Mordane said, walking to Arya and pulling her from the table.

"What's happening here?" Ned Stark asked, walking in on one of his daughters being thrown from her supper and two others who were glaring at each other, both about to rise from the table in a huff and stalk away.

"Arya would rather act like a beast than a lady," the Septa said favouring her pet, Sansa who was utterly wrong, in this conflict.

"Sansa would rather act like a Lannister than a Stark," mumbled Malin under her breath. The sharp looks she got from Sansa and the Septa, and the happy look that flashed through Arya's eyes, told Malin she'd mumbled loud enough for all to hear. Her father looked at her and then Sansa appraisingly.

"Go to your room. We'll speak later," he told Arya. Her door closed with a slightly louder sound than was necessary.

"This is for you, Love," he said to Sansa, handing her a small bundle before walking to Malin's side and handing her an even smaller bundle. "And this, is for you, Love."

"Thank you Father," Malin said before starting to unwrap her bundle as Sansa already had.

Sansa's bundle revealed a china doll with white white skin, a blue jacket with gold embroidery, and a pink dress. Malin's revealed a silver filigree comb, like the ones she'd used to steal from her mother's bureau when she played dressup.

"The same dollmaker makes all of Princess Myrcella's toys," A long pause filled with their father's hope and kindness and Sansa's being an ungrateful brat followed. "Don't you like it?" Eddard Stark asked.

"I haven't played with dolls since I was eight," Sansa rudely answered. Malin shot her a look of disapproval.

"Sansa, I rather like your doll. You could have my comb if you'd let me have the doll," Malin bargained, hoping that her father's feelings wouldn't be hurt by them switching. Why couldn't Sansa have just said, 'I love my new doll,' and been done with it? Sansa held the doll out to Malin and Malin passed her the comb.

"May I be excused?" Sansa asked.

"You've barely eaten a thing," Septa Mordane said, looking at Sansa with concern.

"Me aswell, please?" Malin asked.

"it's alright," Ned interjected. Malin kissed the top of his head and thanked him for the doll before leaving for the library. She didn't hear Sansa say any such thing. And Sansa was the lady-like one?

"War was easier than daughters," She heard her father say to the Septa.

Malin was sitting in the library, really quite hidden among stacks of books, when she was pulled from her chair and a knife was shoved against her throat. She looked her assailant over coldly. He was masked, too stocky to be Jaime, and Malin didn't think he'd ever mask his arrogant Lannister face.

"Unhand me," she said imperiously. "How dare you touch a Stark!"

"Stay quiet about the Lannister brats," a voice hissed from inside the mask.

"Are you here to make me?" she asked caustically. Malin didn't think her fangs- teeth- could rip his throat out. So she stealthily moved her hand towards his gems. When she found them, Malin squeezed hard enough for him to feel pain. He pushed the knife harder against her throat, drawing a trickle of blood.

"Are you certain you can slit my throat before I rip those off? Do you want to lose your manhood for a Lannister? You are going to remove your knife and tell them I'm sufficiently worried, before taking your gold and leaving this city. Do you understand?" Malin took a step forward and the bully boy moved back to avoid hacking her head off.

"You're suicidal," he whispered before turning on his heel and fleeing.

"I like to think of it as 'brash,' maybe 'bold,' I suppose 'reckless' or 'fearless' might work," she said to no one in particular. Unfortunate that she'd left Queen at home, their fangs would've ripped his throat out without hesitation.

After Malin gave a servant a list of the books she wanted delivered, she lost some of her cool anger and it was replaced by her more prevalent fiery anger. Jaime had sent a man to threaten her? She'd pull _his _gems off, but then he'd have no drive to marry her.

Malin wanted to go for Queen before she went looking for Jaime, but at this hour there was no way she'd get out again. She walked with her head unbowed, eyes alert for his white or stupid gold armour, legs stretching out to cover more ground quickly. It occured to Malin that if she asked for a new Southern wardrobe, while they were in the city she might be able to pick up a few disguises. A whore's costume and eastern head scarf that covers all but the eyes, a poor message runner's garb and some type of paint, to give the impression of stubble. Perhaps she could find a Septa's dress, or a Silent Sister's, maybe a servant's costume. The more Malin thought about the people who could walk unobtrusively through the castle, through the city, the more excited she was by her brilliant costume idea. Malin was still furious that Jaime thought a knife to her throat was something he could get away with, but maybe the Stark girl looking for the Kingslayer at such an hour was odd. A whore looking for him certainly wasn't. Malin didn't even know where he was at this hour, and she couldn't very well follow him to learn his schedule.

Still swimming in her rush of ideas, Malin let herself quietly back into the tower. Who could follow Jaime where ever he might go? Someone a few years younger than her might be a beggar in the city and still could pass as a servant in the castle. Would a boy or a girl be less unobtrusive? Mayhap a girl would be less suspicious, young boys supposedly were more often up to wicked things than girls. It couldn't be anyone already in the castle- they all already had their masters who paid them who knows what. Malin didn't even have any pocket money, young ladies had the bills sent on. Queen looked up as Malin walked into their room, absent-mindedly scratching her soulpet before sitting on the bed, deep in thought. She'd have to sell some of her things.

Malin was up into the wee hours of the morning shifting through everything she'd brought south, trying to find things that wouldn't be missed. When she had a sizeable bundle and everything was neatly away, Malin collapsed on the bed and fell into a deep sleep, exhausted from her harrowing first day and long journey.

_The sky was dark purple grey and boiled with dark clouds, lightning brightening the clouds as it crashed behind the purple black curtains. In front of Malin on a red rock cliff, a great direwolf with grey streaks through his black fur fought a pride of lions as a lone raven cawed overhead. The lions circled around the wolf, snapping their jaws as he tried to fend them off, growling. Malin's paws scrambled, her powerful haunches bunched as she tried vainly to break through whatever barrier held her back. One of the lions lunged in, his jaws closing around the direwolf's back leg with a crunch. The direwolf turned to fight his attacker but as he did, the other lions closed in. Malin broke through the barrier as the lions attacked the lone direwolf, a howl ripping through her jaws._

Malin sat bolt upright, her skin clammy, and was completely still for a split second. Then she swung her legs over the edge of her bed and bolted out of her room, faster than she thought she'd ever moved, past a suprised Septa Mordane, who'd been about to knock and wake Malin.

"Father!" Malin shrilled, scrambling up the steps towards the Hand's rooms.

"For Sept's sake child, what is it?" Septa Mordane asked, fluttering behind Malin, who whirled to look at her Septa- "Where's Father?! Do you know?" the Septa shook her head- before turning back to the stairs she was tripping over.

Ned Stark was talking with Jory when Malin burst in, in her nightgown her with hair flying from it's braid, and threw herself at her father.

"Sweet Mother, child, what's the matter with you?" Septa Mordane scolded from the doorway.

Malin peeled herself off her father and looked up at him earnestly, "Father, what have you done?" Septa Mordane hauled Malin up and held her by her shoulders, ready to drag her from the room.

He looked at her suprised, "What'd you mean Love?"

"Don't do it Father, we all need you," Malin didn't quite think she could tell him she'd had a dream he was killed by Lannisters, no one would take a dream seriously. What was her father going to do that put him in such danger? _Jaime._ Her father waved for them to leave and Septa Mordane took her back to her room, still scolding as Malin's handmaids dressed her.

"Septa?" Malin interrupted, earning her a disapproving look. "Couldn't we all get a few Southern dresses? It's rather warm for all of the wools we have."

"You wish to walk about," her voice dropped to an angry whisper, "displaying yourself?!"

"It is too hot for the Northern fabrics," Malin repeated stubbornly.

The Septa sighed, "I'll ask your father." Malin smiled prettily, inwardly smug but, outwardly accepting her victory with grace.

Malin needed more. She needed everything actiually, but she didn't think anything was ever that easy. And so, she needed to know more. Malin wasn't Lord Varys, she didn't have pets who whispered in her ear, she'd read through all she could in the library, she couldn't snoop until she could do so in disguise, the only thing that made sense to her was to go back to sleep. Queen wouldn't stand for being cooped up again and so they snuck out. Malin wore a hood and took a stable horse so no one would know one of the Stark girls was wandering off and met Queen by one of the lesser used gates.

Malin truly wasn't a horsewoman, and riding a strange horse did nothing to help, so they weren't long into a forest off the roads before Malin found a grove of trees that seemed suitable for her nap. She dismounted and tied the horse near some grass she thought might be tasty for an old palfrey. The mare was old enough she just snorted at Queen when she got too close and otherwise ignored her. Malin stretched out and closed her eyes. And lay there. And tossed. And turned. And counted dragons. And finally gave up after what felt like weeks, but was probably an hour or two. Queen wandered back into the clearing, a bloodied rabbit dangling from her jaws. Malin sat up and wrinkled her nose in distaste.

'It's delicious, SIlly Human," seemed to be Queen's response as she dug gratefully in, her eating almost as messy as Malin's. Somehow food just seemed to attach itself to her, if Malin wasn't paying attention to how she nibbled.

'Sometimes, I think we spend too much time together,' Malin told Queen, drawing her knees up to her chest.

'Why?' Queen asked, still happily tucking into her rabbit.

'Because I start to think I hear you talk,' Malin answered, grateful for the sun that shone onto her back. It was too warm, but the sun just made Malin happy. She wished Robb were here. Queen finished her meal and looked at Malin, her ice blue eyes meeting Malin's Stark grey. A raven or crow cawed overhead and Malin jumped. She lay back down and tried to sleep. This time it came easy.

_Malin sat in a dark cave with a single candle flickering in a wall sconce. A three-eyed crow looked at her with something like relief in it's eyes, "I'm not the last."_

_ "The last of what?" Malin asked politely, expecting the crow to say 'three-eyed crow'._

_ Instead he said, "The last Greenseer."_

_ "Who is?" Malin asked curiously, feeling like she should've already known the answer._

_ "You." the crow said._

_ "A Greenseer like from the stories? A child of the forest who can change skins and see the future?" Malin asked, half of her not believing the crow, the other half saying 'doesn't that sound right?'_

_ "You're not a child of the forest, girl. You read your wolf and dream the death of your father, whether you can change your shape I do not know."_

_ "I really hear Queen?"_

_ "She is Vŭltsi. You feel her emotions and attribute to them your words. We will speak again and you will fly."_

_ The dream began to fade around Malin, "Wait!" she shouted. "Vŭltsi like the contellation?" Malin heard a faint raspy sound that sounded rather like a chuckle before all of the dream left. _

Malin woke up to Vŭltsi wuffing softly and a layer of dew dampening her clothes. The sun had almost completely set and the day was left in a dusky blue. Malin's eyelashes held water droplets.

"Malin!" Jory's voice called.

"Stark!" that sounded like Jaime. Other voices called for her too and Malin wondered exactly how much trouble she was in.

"Go bring someone back?" Malin asked Vŭltsi. The direwolf looked at her as if to say, 'Do I look like _your_ keeper?' but went off into the trees anyway.

Malin looked up when she heard a rustling and saw Queen- Vŭltsi- pad silently back into the clearing followed by Jaime.

"Are you mad?" Jaime asked pulling her to her feet. Malin pulled her arm back and swung. Her punch connected solidly with his nose.

"Seven hells!" Malin cursed holding her hand while at the same time Jaime swore, "Fuck! What'd you do that for?!"

"You sent some dirty little man to hold a knife to my throat and threaten me!" Malin said, still nursing her hand.

"Did the warrior teach you how to swing? If you had any muscles in your arms, you'd have broken my nose! I thought we had an understanding, I didn't send anyone after you." Jaime pinched the bridge of his nose to stop the blood flowing freely out. He walked over and held out his free hand. Malin quirked an eyebrow at him before realizing he wanted to inspect her hand.

"Who else would tell me to keep my mouth shut about the Lannister bastards?" She asked while he turned it this way and that, checking for fractures she supposed.

"Malin!" Jory's voice sounded much closer than before and Malin jumped a little before pulling her hand from Jaime's.

"Back to the den of lions?" Jaime asked her.

"Den of vipers you mean," Malin said caustically, before nodding at him.

"I'VE FOUND HER!" he roared. "No, I don't believe Oberyn is in King's Landing."

Crashing sounds began to close in on their clearing and the old palfrey fidgeted as Malin said jokingly, "A wit! A wit! Has your wit landed a hit?"

"My wit always lands when it hits," he said, moving to help her onto the horse. Jory burst into the clearing as the Kingslayer's hand lingered on Malin's riding boot. Malin sighed and braced herself for a barrage of questions, scoldings, and suspicions.

When their search party arrived back in the Red Keep, Jaime was the first one off his horse. He suprised Malin by helping her to dismount, instead of just wandering flippantly off.

"You ride like one who's never sat a horse," he whispered to her as she slid down his length, a trick one of her servant friends had taught her.

Malin looked up at him, doe-eyed, "Do I? Perhaps one day you'll be so kind as to teach me how to ride?" She had the pleasure of seeing that his eyes were the ones dark with desire in this encounter. Malin stepped back and followed Jory, who was looking dangerously at the Kingslayer, into the Tower of the Hand.

The next day Malin was under Septa Mordane's constant supervision. Queen- Vŭltsi- whined and paced in front of the door, begging to go outside, but Septa Mordane held firm. Malin wasn't even allowed to sit in her room by herself. She read through everything she'd gotten from the library, again, sang scales, tried to write poetry, tried to nap and couldn't do so with Septa Mordane watching her, and finally resorted to altering dresses.

"Gods, woman!" Malin burst out, after pricking her finger in her impatience for the thirteenth time, "Can't you just follow us while we walk? How much trouble could I possibly get into with you and my sisters?"

"Why don't you write a letter to Bran?" Septa Mordane suggested.

"What does it matter if he's asleep?" Malin muttered mutinously.

Septa Mordane looked at her in shock, "Has no one told you? Your brother's awake! The raven got here yesterday." Her expression morphed to one of distaste, "While you were off doing Gods know what." Malin rolled her eyes, but the Septa's judgments meant nothing, Bran was awake! Malin left the sewing room and went for her writing supplies. Crossing the tower, she came across Arya lunging at and missing a Braavosi with a wooden practice sword.

"Finally," Malin said smiling.


	4. Chapter 4

I just realized that I spelled Jon wrong (John) in my earlier chapters. Sorry about that folks. Thanks to guest for catching that, spellcheck only saves you half the time :) Thanks for reviewing HermioneandMarcus and thanks to everyone who has favourited a/o followed.

_ 'Fly,' a voice whispered in the darkness. _

_ 'I'm a wolf, not a raven,' Malin told the raven circling around her as wind whistled through her fur and the ground lazily moved closer._

_ 'I'm a crow,' the crow said irratibly. 'Fly or die.'._

_ 'No one dies in dreams,' she said._

_ 'How do you know? Have you ever tried?'_

_ Malin's paws couldn't spread and catch the wind, so she made them arms with long elegant fingers, the only other shape she understood. Her back legs straightened and elongated, becoming human legs with small white feet at the ends. _

_ 'I don't have wings now anymore than I did as a wolf!' Malin said to the crow._

_ 'There are different kinds of wings,' the crow said. _

_ Malin threw her arms out and felt invisble wings catch the wind as she soared over Westeros and beyond to Essos. Malin saw the Shadowlands and it's dragons, Asshai and it's sorcerers, the Free Cities with their colored silk clothing, Yi Ti with it's monkey-hatted people._

_ 'There's so much out there,' Malin told the crow in wonder. She turned to look at him and he dove towards her face. Malin kept her arms spread wide but swerved to try and avoid the crow, who managed to land anyway._

_ 'I'm not a baby bird you know, I don't need chewed worms spit in my face," Malin said, nervously joking. The crow ignored her and pecked her in the center of her forehead, where his third eye was._

_ 'What in the seven hells was that for?' Malin asked, almost forgetting about her wings and trying to clutch her burning forehead._

_ 'Wake,' was all the crow said._

_ 'That's useful,' Malin grumbled._

Malin opened her eyes to see the sun that'd been rising in her dream was now shining brightly through her curtains. _There are still dragons and magic in the world, _Malin thought to herself, amazed. Then she realized that perhaps greenseeing, and warging, and someday being able to change her skin were rather magical.

Last week Septa Mordane had taken them into the city and Malin had been able to slip off and find some garb that would work for disguises. Malin and Sansa had gotten new Southern dresses while Arya had said she was perfectly happy in her grubby pants and shirts. The guards had tried to keep her out of the castle and Malin had laughed so hard she hadn't been able to stand on her own. When she'd wiped the tears from her eyes, Malin had seen Jaime walking away and wondered if unladylike laughter was attractive to him. During the journey from Winterfell and the time in King's Landing, Malin had shot up a few goodly inches (she was almost as tall as Joffrey!), her waist had shrunk, hips had filled out, and chest had bloomed. It made posing as a beggar-boy quite hard but, it made walking as a whore very easy, though Malin preferred to dress as a serving girl. She'd been able to figure out Jaime's schedule by walking around as a scullion girl, since she hadn't been able to afford an orphan to sneak about for her. Malin figured that once she could control cats, she could just send a cat after him.

Malin shooed Vŭltsi, who gave her a disgusted look, off the bed so she could dig under her mattress for her commoner's dress. The drab grey-coloured fabric was itchy and course compared to the dresses Malin wore normally, but she loved how most paid her no attention when she wore it. She'd gotten a of couple leers and rude pats, but since she put her knife to a particularly handsy man's throat, the rest in the castle had been staying back. Malin pulled up a trap door in her flooring and kissed Vŭltsi on the nose before dropping neatly onto her toes. Malin wished she'd brought a candle but could feel her way well enough that she never stumbled. The tunnel wound on for a few miles before letting Malin out in an alley near the King's Gate. Malin was perfectly happy to be by herself as long as there were things to see, and in King's Landing she always felt like there were new things, things that never made their way North. She wished Vŭltsi could come with her, but a direwolf who was almost as large as a small pony drew too much attention.

Malin was wandering along the Street of Steel when she saw first Jory's horse, and then her father's. She casually walked behind them, truly curious but trying to be discreet, since she didn't want her walks through the city to end. She needed to stop leaving as often as she did, she hadn't seen Jaime this week and still hadn't figured out how to get him out of the Kingsguard, but she and Vŭltsi would both be devastated if they couldn't leave the Keep. They stopped at the top of the hill in front of a wealthy armourer's house. Malin didn't stop moving but walked across the street and pretended to be looking at gilded flowers. She was too far away to hear what her father said, and his back was to her so she couldn't see his face, but she watched as the old armourer mopped his neck- _he obviously wants Father's custom- _and then stepped back? _Strange, _Malin thought to herself. A young man came to the armourer's side, his arms bare and sweaty from working the forge. He was grimy, broad-shouldered and muscled from the forge, with brown hair cut close, and blue eyes. Malin hadn't met Robert Baratheon before he was old and fat, but she saw the resemblance almost immediately. _Fuck. _

The city was not for Malin today. She loved walking through it's bustle and smells and people and sights, but they all fell flat. This was what was going to kill her father. And it offended his honour. There was no way he'd let Robert grow older and fatter, and then die, leaving Jaime's son on the throne. The street wasn't wide enough that Malin didn't hear when he said, "King Robert's bastard son." Why was it that no one in her family could keep their mouths shut? Malin could. Kind of. She never said anything supremely dangerous where little birds might hear her.

"Malin?"_ Gods, could this day get any worse? _Malin tried to imagine an accent a pot shop girl might have and ignored the Kingslayer.

"You walk like every step's a seduction. It's quite distinctive," he called after her. Malin didn't turn and look, but she imagined him on a white horse wending his way through the people.

"You do have a habit of being where you shouldn't, don't you?" He was such a stupid pig-headed arrogant imbecile.

"Don't you want me to teach you how to ride? I've the perfect beast. A large hairy thing to put between your legs?" Malin whirled and saw him grinning up at her from his horse. He held out his hand to her and she let him pull her up behind him.

"I thought that might make you turn around."

"Swine." Malin didn't need to see Jaime's arrogant little grin to know it was resting on his face as he nudged his horse into a trot.

When they first started riding, Malin pressed close against Jaime to try and seduce him, but as he started to go too fast and get too close to people or buildings, she was holding on for her own peace of mind. They slowed at the Lion's Gate and Malin poked Jaime, "I thought we were going back to the Keep."

"Who told you that? I think you might crack one of my ribs if you keep holding on like that."

They'd been galloping along roads around King's Landing, with Malin holding on increasingly tighter, when suddenly she heard a snap.

"Oh, Gods! Jaime?!" Malin said, deathly afraid she'd just broken one of his ribs. All she got was a groan in response. Malin jerked the reins out of his hands and slowed the horse. She slid down first and then helped Jaime off, laying him down in a soft patch of grass. Malin opened his shirt to see if a rib was poking out and didn't see anything. She ran her fingers over his skin in confusion, looking for a bruise or something to mark the break. Suddenly, Jaime flipped her over, his shirt still open to reveal his tan muscled stomach. He slowly lowered his head towards hers, his lips stopping a hairs breadth away. Malin's eyes flicked from his lips up to his Lannister green eyes, which stared down at her.

"You were afraid you'd hurt the Kingslayer," Jaime said, his breath warm and not unpleasant smelling against her face.

"I was afraid you were hurt," Malin corrected, a little unsure as to what the difference was, but feeling that it was an important distinction. Malin brought her fingers up to the sides of his clean-shaven face, pulling him the little distance between their mouths. Malin melted. Jaime didn't kiss like Robb at all, his kisses were the intrusive ones of a man grown, not a boy like her brother, and all her plans and worries flew to the back of her mind. He kept his weight off her and on his arms, but the distance between them felt too far, and Malin's arms wound around Jaime's neck, pulling him closer. When they broke for air, Jaime trailed kisses down her neck to the top of her dress where her breasts were pressed against the fabric of her serf's dress. Malin rolled so that she was on top, her legs around his waist. Her fingers lightly roamed across his foreign chest with it's blonde hairs, as their mouths resumed their attacks, and Malin felt his hand brush across her breast. Malin smiled against his lips as she felt him harden and shamelessly ground herself against him.

Dimly, Malin started to hear jeers, catcalls, and wolf-whistles. She reacted instinctively and snarled, her hands forming claws. If Malin had been able to see herself, she would've seen her eyes change to those of a wolf, reflecting the dusk light back at the men and her teeth elongate. She didn't, but Jaime did and the men did, and even without the eyes and teeth, Malin understood her reaction was strange.

"That girl's a freak!"

"Be a mercy, killing her!"

"Who wants to live as a half-beast!"

"Goes against the Sept, it does! Her mother was probably a whore that lay with a wolf!"

The men got closer and Malin prepared to run, not expecting Jaime to do anything to save her, but he suprised her by standing and drawing his sword.

"Well-met friends! You've rather ruined my fun. I'd kill you, but there'd so little sport in it, it wouldn't salve my wounds," Jaime said sarcastically.

Malin could've cried she was so happy that Jaime wouldn't let her be hunted by those buffoons. She settled for not reprimanding him about his sex comment. When the men were close enough to see it was Jaime Lannister, they left, though not without japes and threats and mutterings. Malin threw her arms around Jaime, careful to avoid his still drawn blade. He patted her on the back as though she were a simpleton.

Malin drew back and smacked him on the arm, "Gods, Jaime! Couldn't you act like we'd just been saved from a pack of rabid idiots?! I thought I was going to die!"

"I could've killed them all without breaking a sweat," he said dismissively.

"If you weren't so arrogant all the time maybe you'd be happier!" Malin shouted.

"If there wasn't so much calculation in your doe-eyed looks, maybe you'd be married," Jaime said cruelly.

"Oh you _don't _like calculating women? Well , fuck! If only someone had told you sooner! Maybe you wouldn't be stuck with Cersei and me!"

Malin moved to hit him and he grabbed her wrist, "What are you?"

"Let go," Malin said, with a tinge of desperation, trying to pull her wrist from his grasp.

Jaime moved closer to her, his arm encircling her waist, "You didn't want me to before."

"Let me go," Malin said again.

"You_ are _just like Cersei," he told her, a bemused smile spreading across his face.

"No, I am not," Malin said slightly petulantly, before collecting herself and moving temptingly closer to him. "I'm smarter, I have more tact, I'm younger, kinder, and unattached."

"You also transform into a wolf girl."

"Take me home Jaime. I can't afford a second search party," Malin said tiredly.

"I'll ride back to the city without you unless you explain," Jaime threatened.

Malin turned on her heel and marched back towards the city.

Malin had gone most of a mile before a stony faced Jaime gave up and pulled her up behind him. They rode back to the Red Keep in silence.

After Jaime helped Malin down, when they stood closer than was proper, and his arms were still on her waist and her hands on his arm, Malin said, "Are you going to her now?" There was almost no calculation in her wide grey eyes or in her almost wounded innocent tone, and Malin thought that if there had been, Jaime'd have told her he was going to Cersei whether he was or not.

"I'm going to the guard the King's door, like a glorified sentry," he answered acerbically. Malin thought she saw confusion in his eyes and wondered if it was because Cersei was never gentle, or dependant on him. _That_ was what Malin needed to do, not simper at him like an idiot, or hit him like a moody teenager, but be gentle and make him feel she needed him. Malin looked around the courtyard, before darting up to kiss his cheek, and walking quickly off with just one backward glance. It was a glorious backward glance, filled with sweet gentle things, and Malin almost ruined it by smirking when she saw the Kingslayer falter.

_Dear Rickon,_

_Your penmanship in your last letter was much improved. I'm so proud to hear that your reading and proud to _see _that your writing are coming along. I'm sorry we won't see each other again anytime soon. Father's tourney is coming up and Sansa's quite excited. We're all well, but I think I'm in love with the Lannister man. Pray for our happiness as we pray for yours and our brothers'._

_ Love,_

_ Malin_

Malin figured if her father was off looking for Robert's bastards to compare against Jaime's children, Cersei might be nervous enough to read any mail coming or going from the Stark house. She would never trouble Rickon with her silly love situations, and her letters were pages, though she hadn't had pages in response, Malin just needed Cersei to tell Jaime the Stark girl liked him. She was almost certain the Queen would mock her and almost certain Jaime wouldn't. The only problem was if the letter was actually sent on, but Malin thought she could control a raven for the time it would take to make it drop a letter. She was strong-willed and knew exactly who she was, and so Malin didn't worry about losing herself or control, just about the initial slip into a raven's mind. She rolled the little sheet of parchment and went to the rookery herself to deliver it, so she could see the ravens first and be closer. She'd already found a nook to hide in while her mind was elsewhere.

"Grand Maester?" Malin asked with false timidity.

"Come in, my dear. Come in," the old man wheezed, every bit as convincing as Malin's shy and timid maiden act.

Malin made sure her moves were graceful and maidenly as she closed the door and stood with her hands wringing the rolled up letter.

"I was wondering, Grand Maester, if you might permit me to see the ravens? I have a note to send to Winterfell but I do so love birds, and I was hoping you might let me..." Malin trailed off in false nervousness and looked becomingly up through her lashes.

"Of course my dear, of course," Pycelle rasped repetitively, getting out of his chair to hobble, as an exceptionally old man might hobble, though Malin suspected he was faking, out the door and up the stairs to the rookery.

Malin stared in amazement for several seconds before aksing Pycelle to name some of the multitued of ravens. This went on for a few moments and then Malin started, "I beg your pardon Grand Maester, I forgot my septa was waiting for me. I know it's beyond a man of your esteem, but would you mail my letter for me?"

Malin didn't miss the bright flash in Pycelle's eyes when she handed him the letter, and congratulated herself on finding one of the Queen's creatures. If she warned her father, perhaps this would avert his death. Malin closed the door serenely behind her and then clattered down the steps. She flew into Pycelle's room and felt behind a tapestry for the hidden latch of her nook. Slipping inside and slowing her breathing before reaching for a raven. Malin had seen which bird Pycelle was going to attach her letter too, a testy bird he'd cleverly named, "Biter." She found Biter's mind but it took her a moment to find her way in. Birds were not wolves.

_Food-man had picked them up with a long-wind-journey-paper in his hand, but had then just placed them on his shoulder while he looked the long-wind-journey-paper over? They were not happy with Food-man taunting them with wind-wing-flight-freedom and then sitting there. Food-man was saved from their ire by the worm sitting on his head. They very much liked worms. They moved for the worm and salt-copper-metal-blood filled their mouths, while Food-man yelled and swatted at them, dropping the paper. Malin chose this moment to assert her control and they dove for the paper before cawing out the window with it. The wind was beneath their wings and with every flap they flew higher. They never wanted to go home to their silly lessons and revenges and intrigues, only fly. Malin felt Biter taste lessons and figure out what the word meant, drawing the meaning from her mind. He did the same for revenges and intrigues and Malin was astonished that the raven could do so. She withdrew from their contact in shock._

The hole Malin'd been hiding in had gotten chilly, and she took a moment to rub the prickles out of her fingers and toes. This tunnel was different from the one in the Tower of the Hand, it was much more cramped, the floor less even, the walls closer together, and made of dirt, not stone. Malin had to hunch down and walk sideways with her knees out to get through some of the tighter spots, but she hurried along, stumbling occasionally. She needed to ask the crow about Biter learning from her. Malin was grateful this tunnel didn't go into King's Landing, she'd found it while exploring a different tunnel that ran under the stables and had followed it, popping out near the dungeons. There had been an even smaller crawlspace that Malin suspected led to one of the prison cells. She had no desire to find out if she was right.

When Malin emerged from the dungeon, a Night's watchmen who looked extremely familiar jumped and swore at her. She apologized and hurried on her way, head down. She'd die if anyone recognized her. Everywhere was busy, everyone getting ready for the turney. Malin smiled as she thought about how sour her father's expression would be at all the bustle. _I can't imagine a world without my father in it. And I refuse to, _Malin thought determinedly.

Malin decided that seeming like a wild child when she broached a strange subject with her father was not a path to be retaken, so she dressed in nice clean clothes, and managed not to fidget while her handmaiden did her hair. Only when she was presentable did Malin knock, calmly, on her father's door. She heard him shuffle papers about before he called "Enter!" and wondered when they'd all gotten so secretive and distant. Malin supposed it was her fault, she'd started things with Robb and had always been a bit competitive with and resentful of Sansa though she'd loved her. Now her father was dying, Arya hated Sansa and was busy with Syrio, Sansa didn't like anyone but Lannisters, and Malin couldn't stand to be around her disappointing sister. All the other Starks were miles and miles away. Malin peeked around her father's door and saw him seated at his desk, smiling at her.

Malin took a deep breath and dove right in, "Father, you can't investigate Robert's natural-born children anymore. It's killing you. You shouldn't trust Pycelle. We won't be alright without you. " Malin finished in a rush and looked at her shoes, which were suddenly, inexplicably interesting.

"What's gotten into you, Child?" Ned Stark asked gently, coming around his desk to kiss her on the forehead and point her to a seat on a couch. "How'd you know I was looking into Robert's children? And what's this I hear from Sansa about you and the Kingslayer spending too much time together? According to your sister, everyone's talking about you and she's worried for your reputation."

"So you _don't _believe Sansa when she says she's worried?" Malin joked, knowing perfectly well that 'according to your sister' belonged to 'everyone's talking about you'. At her father's rather deadpan expression Malin cleared her throat and tried again, "The Old Gods have gotten into me and that's truly all I want to or really can say. I saw you talking to the blacksmith's boy just like half the city did. I don't spend too much time with Jaime Lannister, but I can start spending more time with the court ladies if you like."

Ned Stark sighed and Malin watched his face looking for signs of what was to come. "You always were the best-behaved daughter. Didn't have Sansa's fits or Arya's rebellions. I suppose you had to make up for it at some point," he said. Malin smiled at her father tentatively, still waiting for more. "I'll try to be quiet with my investigations but I can't ingore John Arryn's murder. Did I ever tell you about him?"

Malin nodded, "He was like a second father to you."

"That he was," Eddard said heavily. "Now, as for Jaime Lannister," Malin could tell from the way her father chewed Jaime's name he didn't like Jaime. "He's Kingsguard and should have no interest in you, nor any other. You might run into more trouble with the court ladies, but stay away from the Lannisters. Understand?"

"Pratīta," Malin said, raising her father's eyebrow. "It means 'understood'," she explained, getting up to leave.

Malin was a little disappointed her father wouldn't out and out stop investigating, but perhaps this would be enough to save him. She pulled the covers up and closed her eyes, done with a tiring, but sort of productive day.

_The sky was dark purple grey and boiled with dark clouds, lightning brightening the clouds as it crashed behind the purple black curtains. In front of Malin on a red rock cliff, a great direwolf with grey streaks through his black fur fought a lion with glittering green eyes, as the crow cawed overhead. The lion circled around the wolf, snapping it's jaws as the direwolf fended it's attacks off, growling. Malin's feet smacked the ground, her leg muslces screaming, as she tried vainly to break through whatever barrier held her back. The lion lunged in, his jaws closing around the direwolf's shoulder with a sickening soud. The direwolf shook the lion off and they attacked, clashing together in earnest. Malin broke through the barrier as the fighters went tumbling over the edge of the cliff._

_ "Help!" she screamed at the crow as she raced towards the cliff's edge._

_ "Your dream," he cawed down._

_ Malin got to the edge of the cliff and couldn't see any thing but breaking waves, a hundred feet below. She took a few steps back, got a running start, and dove off the cliff. The waters below weren't summerland waters, they were grey and stormy and cold. When Malin hit the water she felt like a giant fist had squeezed the breath from her lungs, it seemed like the water itself was trying to leech away her lifeforce. She struggled up to the surface and gasped in a deep breah before diving under to look for her father. She struggled to swim but finally, dimly saw on the very bottom of the ocean, a direwolf fighting a lion as if the water had no effect on either of them. Behind them loomed a giant shape, blacker than the waters around them. Malin tried to scream a warning but only sucked in the salty sea. Malin's vision flickered and dimmed as the fish swallowed the lion and swam away. She dimly felt glad that the direwolf was okay, until she saw that without the lion, the water had sucked away the wolf's life as it was sucking away hers._

_ "Malin..." a voice called to her through the blackness of the waters, then again with more force, "Malin!"_

"Malin!"

Malin sat bolt upright and almost had a heart attack when she saw a dark shape at the foot of her bed. Where was Vŭltsi when you needed her? Then Malin recognized the shape.

"Maiden Mother and Crone!" Malin swore before lowering her voice to a whisper, "Jaime, how in the seven hells did you get up here? You understand the concept of sleep-time, right?" Malin massaged her temples, still reeling from her dream.

"I came to ask for your favour," Jaime said as if it were the most obvious normal thing to do. Malin was speechless for a moment. What was the gentle response to this? Her first instinct was to tell him she would grant anyone favour if they let her get her full ten hours. And then, in a flash of inspiration, it came to Malin.

"What're you doing tonight?" she whispered. His response was to pull her to him and kiss her urgently. _This won't do_, Malin thought as she gradually slowed their tempo and kissed him softly, gently. Those were the watch-words. She pulled his hand from under her nightgown and moved it to her waist.

"Slower, alright?" she asked. "It doesn't mean not at all. Just, slower."

"In this bed?" he asked, pulling her nightgown over her head. "I feel like I'm going to fall off," Jaime said between trailing kisses down her neck and then over to first one breast and then the other. Malin laughed quietly as she noticed his feet dangling off the edge of the bed, "You're too tall."

"But I'm equally tall all over. Imagine how much stranger I'd be if I had very short legs and very long arms."

When Jaime finally took her, Malin was almost as impatient as he was. She didn't really have the temperment to be sweet and gentle during sex. Malin decided that would have to wait for outside the bedroom. She curled up against Jaime's chest afterwards and felt a horrible miture of things swirling all around inside her. She was nervous about her father and her brain was going a million miles a minute trying to figure out what she could do, she was happy here with Jaime, upset that she was happy with the King-/Brother-slayer, smug at how well she was manipulating Jaime, on a knife's edge wondering if Cersei would steal him back, and what if the Kingsguard wouldn't release him? Malin wanted to ask Jaime about his father, but remembered how sleepy Robb was post-coitus. Malin felt her heart wrench thinking of Robb, but was suprised to notice that Jaime wrapping his arms around her, mollified that. One of the last thoughts that ran through Malin's mind was, _Crone help me, what happens if I like him?_

"MALIN?!" Malin groaned, half-asleep, and rolled over, her arm stretching out and searchiing for Jaime's missing warmth.

"MALIN OPEN THIS DOOR!" At her Septa's second yell, Malin's eyes shot open and she bolted out of bed. Jaime was hopping into his pants in a way that would have been comical if it hadn't been happening while Septa Mordane was hammering on Malin's door. He grabbed his shirt and with his pants only half on, swung his leg over the windowsill.

"Are you insane?" Malin hissed, pulling him back in. "Climbing out of my window in broad daylight?" Malin pushed him towards her bed, "Hide under the bed! Vite! Vite!" Jaime looked at her like she was being demeaning but obeyed.

"Coming!" she trilled to Septa Mordane and flung the door wide.

Septa Mordane's wimple was askew with hairs falling out of it, her face ruddy and flushed. She held Vŭltsi by the scruff of her neck though the direwolf could've easily overpowered her. Malin almost peed herself laughing at the hang-dog wolf and increasingly annoyed Septa who couldn't get a word in to explain _why _Vŭltsi was in such trouble. She tried to go get Arya but Septa Mordane refused to move and let her by. Eventually Septa Mordane threw up her hands in disgust and left while Vŭltsi slunk into the room, tail tucked between her legs and head down. Malin was still giggling when she pulled Jaime out from under the bed.

Very seriously, Malin swore Jaime to secrecy. He mock-solemnly pledged to keep her secret and Malin, knowing that was the best she was going to get, pulled up the floorboards, revealing her tunnel. Jaime was suitably impressed and Malin smiled, immensely proud of her cunning. Jaime had already dropped down and was walking away with Malin's last candle when she suddenly remembered the whole reason he had come.

"Jaime, wait!" Malin said scrambling about in her room for something that would be a suitable favour. Malin saw her cream coloured muslin with gold embroidery that trimmed the top of her new burgundy dress and knew it was perfect.

Jaime's voice came up through the tunnel, "What are you raving about?"

"Here," Malin said, laying on her belly so her head and shoulders were over the tunnel, "My favour, Good Ser." She watched as the fabric floated through the air and Jaime caught it before giving her a cocky smile and heading through the tunnel.

The days leading up to the tourney were spent in nervous anticipation, with Malin wondering if she should tell her father she gave Jaime her favour. She didn't think he'd recognize it, but Sansa might. Her nervousness only disappeared when she saw Jaime, but it came back worse than before when he was gone. She was rather confused about when she started liking the arrogant ass who'd tried to kill her brother. It was only the night before the tourney that Malin resolved what she was going to do about her liking the Kingslayer. Nothing. She was going to destroy the wealth of his house same as before but, like him throughout her revenge. It seemed absolutely ridiculous to Malin, but she couldn't tear out the part of her heart that liked him, and she wouldn't let him hurt her brother and get off scot free. If he liked her when she was done, she wouldn't let those who hated Casterly Rock have him and they'd already be married and they'd have grey-eyed blonde-haired babies. Malin realized her new (old, but more complicated now) course of action was illogical and silly but she had trouble admitting her mistakes and was determined to stay her course. It absolved all her nerves and she slept like a babe.

Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, Malin and Vŭltsi were up not too long after the sun. Malin woke a very cranky handmaiden, who pulled her hair into an elaborate series of braids, a little harder than was necessary. Malin's suspicions about the maiden being rather upset with her were confirmed when the maid pulled Malin's stays together so tightly Malin wasn't sure she'd be able to breathe. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and decided to let it slide. With the dress tied this tightly, Malin's waist would be slimmer than anyone else's. She thought gleefully of how tree-like Cersei's waist would be by comparison. Malin darkened her lashes and then stepped away from the mirror to admire herself. Her dark dark hair was back, with a few curls framing her face, and contrasting nicely with her winter white skin. She wore the new burgundy dress with it's pointed sleeves and managed to look older than her thirteen years which pleased her to no end. Malin had bathed Vŭltsi just yesterday and the direwolf's fur was soft and brilliant. Vŭltsi would no doubt find some way to dirty it on their way to the tourney but there was nothing Malin could truly do about that. They were up early enough that they could walk to the tourney grounds and still not be late and so Malin begged some rolls from the kitchens. All the workers were glaring daggers at Vŭltsi and Malin guessed that was why she'd been in so much trouble the other day.

As she and Vŭltsi were walking towards the tourney, among the crowds of commoners who were similarly inclined, Malin saw the bastard boy from the smith's. She panicked for a split second, thinking her father had planned some big reveal but he'd promised to be cautious and quiet. The boy was walking along to watch same as everyone else. Malin was a fan of public reveals for dangerous things. It was harder to kill someone while everyone watched, everyone heard, atleast someone would believe you, the tale would be repeated and the seeds of doubt sown. But her father having Cersei and Jaime beheaded would be rather upsetting.

Walking among the crowd of peasants and merchants and whores and sailors Malin felt a little like a leper and a little like a princess. Vŭltsi created a bubble of space around Malin that no one seemed willing to pop. It made observing the smith's boy much harder than it would have been otherwise, but Malin managed. He seemed much the same as any one else. Strange because he was so much more dangerous.

"Lover's quarrel?" Petyr Baelish, commonly called Littlefinger, asked Sansa. Jaime had pointed him out to her earlier. Littlefinger had been hungrily looking at Sansa and Malin misliked him talking to Sansa now. Jaime said Lord Petyr claimed he'd taken her mother and Aunt Lysa's maidenheads. Malin definitely disliked this little man. He wasn't unattractive, though not near as handsome as Robb or Jaime, a slender shorter man with gray-green eyes, a small pointed beard, and threads of gray through his dark hair. Malin had seen Sansa and Joffrey's exchange of looks and- Gods! How Littlefinger made her nervous. Malin felt there was no one he would ever tell the truth to, and Malin liked to know what was happening around her. How else was she supposed to be prepared? Malin had seen Sansa and Joffrey's exchange of looks and wondered what was up Joffrey's arse, but Littlefinger didn't need to comment.

"I'm sorry. Do I..." Sansa trailed off in confusion while Arya looked at him mistrustfully. Malin really did like Arya.

Septa Mordane helped her pet, "Sansa, dear, this is Lord Baelish. He's known-"

"An old friend of the family," said Littlefinger seating himself in the small space between Sansa and Malin, who moved to widen the gap between her and Littlefinger. "I've known your mother for a long, long time."

"Why do they call you Littlefinger?" Arya asked rudely. If it had been anyone Malin wanted to impress in the slighest she'd have been horribly embarressed, but Malin wanted so little to do with Lord Baelish, she couldn't have cared less what Arya said to him.

"Arya!" Sansa said, dancing her and Arya's dance. Arya said something rude and Sansa reprimanded, often just as rudely.

"Don't be rude," the Septa reprimanded with heavy emphasis on each word. Malin thought she sounded rather rude. Couldn't they find someone more egalitarian and tolerant, perhaps even someone kind?

"No, it's quite alright," said Littlefinger. "When I was a child, I was very small and I come from a little spit of land called the 'Fingers,' so you see. It's an exceedingly clever nickname."

"I've been sitting here for days! Start the damn joust before I piss meself!" bellowed King Robert drunkenly from his platform. The Queen rolled her eyes and left and Malin sucessfully duplicated the move while everyone's attention was on the King.

Ser Gregor was riding first, and aside from the fact that he was freakishly large, Malin found him uninteresting. She considered using to clear a path to the front of where the commoners stood, but the direwolf would most likely spook the horses, and get her noticed. Malin walked away from where the high lords and ladies sat, wandering until something caught her interest.

Eventually she settled down with some of the lowerborn ladies who were close to her age. Her friend from the journey to King's Landing, Cassella Otherys, smiled and introduced her to the others. Some of the girls were made quite nervous by Vŭltsi and Malin was grateful to Cassella for petting her and cooing over her soft fur. The others were less nervous and Vŭltsi was even allowed to lay on an empty part of the bench. Malin had little to no interest in the proceedings, but did have fun gossiping and making funny comments to Cassella and her friends. The only time Malin paid attention was when Jaime rode and then she hugged Vŭltsi so tightly that the direwolf shook her off. Jaime aquitted himself well, prevailing over Andar Royce, Bryce Caron, and Barristan Selmy. When Jaime tilted against Ser Barristan, Malin wasn't sure he would win and sat white-knuckled, her spine stiff and ram-rod straight, not breathing. It was a hard-fought match with Jaime scraping by, and Malin caught Cassella giving her a curious look when she exhaled and relaxed back to her former position.

_"Why did the raven learn from me?" Malin sat cross-legged watching the crow across from her curiously. They were in a dark cave with a weirwood tree in the distance, and a single candle flickering in it's wall sconce._

_ "Because you let him. The direwolf grows smarter, the raven turned white. Those you touch are also touched by you," the raven flapped it's wings and looked ready to take off. "Ready for your next lesson?"_


	5. Chapter 5

"Do you ever think you should have been born someone else?" Malin asked Cassella, as they and Vŭltsi walked among the vendors selling their wares to the tourney-goers.

"Not at all," answered the Braavosi as she delicately ate her sugared violets. Malin had noticed her friend had a taste for sugared things. Malin was unsure where the delicate girl put all the things she ate, and was currently favouring the idea that she had some hollow limb all her food ended up in. "I should have been born a few years earlier and a good deal lovelier. Then I might be the Black Pearl of Bravos in place of my elder sister. I'd be a good deal richer and drowning in suitors who'd throw themselves prostrate at my feet," she paused as a look of consideration settled over her features. "I am rather smarter than my sister. I suppose I'd rather make my way by my wits than be told that I'll grow to be a courtesan."

"Instead you get to broker your marriage?" Malin asked, curious. She was astonished that anyone was considered lovelier than her friend, who had the pale skin and violet eyes of her valyrian heirtage, with a tumbling mane of dark curls. Malin had been making sure she was well dressed and perfectly groomed to make a comparison between them better than horrifying.

"I come from family of courtesans. My great-grandmother was a pirate queen and mistress to Aegon IV. My mother isn't determined that I marry. I could become a courtesan, just not the Black Pearl, or write under a pen name, or join some religous cult, like your Septas." Malin giggled at her friend calling the Sept a cult and decided not to correct her. Cassella drew close and linked arms with Malin, "So. Tell me about the golden Lannister and you," she whispered conspiratorily.

"Queen Cersei? Nothing to tell really. Very lovely, I'm sure, but I haven't spoken more than a few words to her," Malin said, deliberately misunderstanding.

"Don't be daft, Malin. I thought you were going to squeeze your lovely wolf's eyes from her head the other day. Do tell," Cassella urged.

Malin had been thinking about what she should say. She'd seen Cassella notice her concern for Jaime, and had thought, _Danger_. Malin liked Cassella, but that by no means meant she trusted her. But the more Malin thought, the more she realized it was perfectly acceptable for her to like Jaime, as long as nothing that would ruin her reputation got out. It might even be good for rumours of them _chastely_ liking each other to be circulating before Malin tried to pull him from the Kingsguard. "He _is _rather handsome isn't he?" Malin admitted.

"I knew it!" Cassella said her face lighting up with happiness. "Does he like you aswell?"

"He's Kingsguard," Malin said sadly, a plan forming of hours spent researching with another head to help. "They never marry."

"There has to be some exception," Cassella said, her brow furroughing.

"Mayhap we can look sometime, but cone on! Jaime's riding first today!" Malin said, her eyes dancing as she pulled her friend towards the lists.

Malin brought Cassella up to where the high lords and ladies sat, instead of going to where the minor nobility was. Her father had come today and Malin felt she could sit with Sansa and her silliness if her father was around. The horns had already blown when Vŭltsi cleared a path to their seats, and Malin and Cassella were just sitting down when the riders took their positions at either end of the lists. Sandor Clegane was wearing soot-grey armour and his hound's head helm with an olive green cloak. Jaime was covered in gold. He wore his ridiculous golden armour, his lance was made of a golden wood, and he was even seated on an elegant blood-bay destrier that had it's own blanket of golden ringmail. He blew a kiss at Malin and she felt heat flush her face. Her father looked at her sharply but Malin's eyes were glued on Jaime. He was tall, strong, and an unusually talented knight, but both the Cleganes were huge. Malin had already profusely thanked all the Gods that he wasn't riding against the Mountain. Cassella said he'd killed some knight yesterday.

The hound leaned forward while he rode, his lance alarmingly steady and straight, but Jaime shifted in the instant before they crashed together, and the Hound's point was turned harmlessly, whilst Jaime's lance hit square, the wood shattering. The Hound barely kept his seat. Malin was almost on her feet cheering, but Cassella tugged her sleeve and she settled back from her half-stand. They both rode back to their ends for a second pass and Jaime's squire tossed him a fresh lance, while Jaime made some jest to the younger Lannister boy. The next time when Jaime shifted, Sandor Clegane did too, and both lances splintered. Malin was on her feet and running before Cassella could pull her back and before the splinters had even settled. Vŭltsi reached Jaime first and licked his hand while he still rolled in the dirt. Jaime was back on his feet by the time Malin reached him but his helmet was evidently stuck on his head. Jaime was inclined to stay and fight it, but Malin pulled him off the field, out of the view of all those laughing. She wrapped her arm around his waist and yelled at his idiot squire to lead them to a blacksmith. This was not going to help her reputation.

Malin was on her way back from leaving Jaime at the blacksmith's, he was in too foul a mood for her to stay, when her knees staggered and she gasped as she was sucked into a horse's mind.

_Breed-mare-smell-lovely-want had been distracting. Hard-spur-angry-whip-furless-horse was going to be red-violent-frightening. Small-gentle-scared-furless-horse was holding onto cold-steel-mouth-pull and Quick-hooves just wanted to leave. Mare-smell-lovely had ran past and Quick-hooves' sides hurt. Hard-spur-angry-whip-furless-horse drew his sharp-biting-long-steel and Quick-hooves panicked, trying to get away. He felt the sharp-biting-long-steel slice through his neck and then..._

Malin realized she was curled into a little ball on the ground, screaming, her hands around her head. Vŭltsi stood over her, growling at anyone who got too close. Malin was in no condition to move and was grateful when she saw Jaime edging his way closer, even with Vŭltsi snarling at him. A crowd had sort of ringed around her, but Jaime scared them off. Vŭltsi stopped snarling and let him pass to scoop Malin up. His stupid golden armour was gone and he was left in his sweaty underclothes. Even with tears leaking down her face, Malin wrinkled her nose and told him he smelled. He told her she didn't smell any better after lying on the ground.

"Let me down Jaime. I'm perfectly fine now." Malin hated being carried, or fed, like she was a baby. She didn't quite understand how someone shoving food into her mouth was supposed to be romantic, though being carried against Jaime she could almost understand the attraction in that.

Jaime put Malin down and crowded close, preventing anyone from seeing who was between the wall and the Kingslayer, "What happened?"

"I just wasn't where I was supposed to be. It's not a big deal," Malin said, still reliving plunging into darkness along with the horse. She didn't have the energy to coquette or be anything other than what she was, and simply looked along the street, watching for little spiders.

Jaime put his finger under her chin, forcing her to look at him while his eyes scanned hers. He kissed her quickly on the lips and said, "You'll tell me someday?"

"I'll tell my husband someday, I suppose, and even then I'm not sure. My husband will take me far from court, just like court took me far from Winterfell, and I'll never see you again. So, no, I'm not trusting you with my big uglies," Malin dolorously said. Jaime seemed about to respond when Malin raised her head and said quickly, "I think my father is planning to marry me to Theon Greyjoy or Jojen Reed." Jaime looked shocked. "Anyway, it's not like it matters. It wouldn't be you and it couldn't be Robb," Malin said flippantly, before a manic giggle escaped her. She put her hand over her mouth, slightly shocked, but then a stream of equally manic giggles followed. "Did I ever tell you about my little brother?"

"Bran?"

"No, Rickon," Malin said impatiently. When Jaime shook his head 'No,' Malin continued, "When he was first born, he was just like a little china doll that I'd always wanted. I used to dress him up and play with him. But time began to go by and I started to change his diapers, and make him toys, and mend his clothes, and sew him new ones. He was like my own little baby," Malin's face had had a dreamy happy quality to it, but her look darkened. "When we left Winterfell, he told me he'd never see any of us again. Is he going to die? I keep seeing a wolf fighting and dying and no matter what I try to do I can't save him. He's fighting a lion, Jaime. Why can't I save him? What are you doing to kill my father?" Malin started to cry and a bewildered Jaime took her in his arms. "I feel like I'm going mad and at the same time like nothing really matters. I feel like I could ride down Gregor Clegane and laugh so madly he'd take his life as mine ebbed out in flows. I feel like I might float away if you weren't here to hold onto me," Malin said, her face buried in Jaime's chest. "Don't let me go, okay?"

"I won't," he held her closer. "I've always been rather good at holding on to women," he said with more of his usual sarcasim.

Malin's vision flickered and dimmed as she saw Cersei rounding the corner, dressed like a serving wench. Malin would've been horribly embaressed to have fainted twice in one day if she'd been in her right mind. She'd have wanted to bury her head under the ground if she'd known her second faint was witnessed by Jaime's second (or perhaps first depending on how you want to look at it) woman.

When Malin woke up, Sansa was sitting by her bed, stitching something on to a sampler and Vŭltsi lay by her feet. _I should just go back to sleep_, Malin thought closing her eyes, but Sansa looked up and saw her eyes open.

"You're awake."

Malin sighed and sat up, "Yes, Dear Sister. I am, in fact, awake."

"Father's not best pleased that the Kingslayer has called so many times. He doesn't seem too happy about you befriending a courtesan's daughter either, but I think that he's more upset about Jaime Lannister. Why didn't you tell me you were in love? He's rather old, but still handsome I suppose. We'll both marry into the same family, and our babies will grow up as siblings, and it'll will be romantic and lovely just like in the songs," Sansa sighed dreamily.

"Don't be ridiculous Sansa," Malin said brusquely, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed and walking to her mirror to examine her face. She didn't see any difference, which was rather strange since you'd expect some kind of change after dying. Malin felt as silly as Sansa for expecting some kind of mark, showing the world how different she was.

"He carried you in like a bride! I heard Father tell Jory," Sansa protested.

"He's Kingsguard, now drop it. Tell me what happened. How long have I been asleep? Has Cassella called? How many times has the Kinglsayer called? What about? That sort of thing," Malin said, taming her unruly hair into a braid.

"You fainted, for the second time Jaime Lannister said, and he wasn't sure what was wrong. Father left after Gregor Clegane tried to kill Loras Tyrell but-"

"Gregor Clegane?" Malin asked, fear spiking through her. Just his name sent her stomache into an uproar, while a cold sweat broke out over her skin.

"Yes. He killed his horse and then went after Ser Loras when he was unhorsed during the joust," Malin nodded, her tongue too thick to speak, and gestured for Sansa to go on. "Father left and I stayed and when Father got back, Jaime was keeping watch over your bedside while Septa Mordane fetched a healer. You've been unconscious for three days and Ser Jaime has called five times. Father has sent him away each time. Your friend Cassella called twice, she'll probably call again later today, those flowers are from her," Sansa said, pointing to a vase of wild peonies. "Oh, Malin! Jaime Lannister called for you five times! It really is like a song! You must love him as much as I do Joffrey."

"Jaime is nothing like that horrid ass," Malin said, a little more rudely and with a little more vehemence than she thought prudent. It was true, but Malin believed in moderating one's speech. She might have just offended her future queen. Sansa was such a child it could blow over quickly, or last longer than it would with someone who had a modicum of maturity. "Sorry," Malin said curtly. It wasn't enough and it was all Malin had, so Malin didn't chase after Sansa when she swept out of the room. She felt a little regret but brushed it aside and dressed herself, in no mood for a handmaid's company. Malin walked down the hallways and passed Lord Varys, the spider, on his way to her father's rooms. She abruptly changed her course for the entrance to a smaller side tunnel that connected to a stone passage that led within eavesdropping distance of the Hand's rooms, but only after having Arya take Vŭltsi beyond the walls. The kitchens couldn't sustain three direwolves and Vŭltsi was by far the biggest and most independant, so she was alllowed hunting.

"But his mind is sound?" the Spider's voice came thinly through the walls.

"So they say," that was definitely Lord Stark. Malin huddled closer against the tunnel wall, her ear pressed as close as she could get it.

"A blessing then. I suffered an early mutilation myself. Some doors close forever, others open in most unexpected places," _Does Varys know about the tunnels?_ "May I?" It sounded as if he was closing doors and windows. "If the wrongs ears heard what I'm about to tell you, off comes my head. And who would mourn poor Varys then?" Malin didn't trust whatever Varys might be inclined to share. Spiders rarely do things solely for the benefit of others, and who could say how this fat simpering flowery spider might benefit from the fall of the Starks. "North or south they sing no songs for spiders," Varys continued. "But there are things you must know," he sounded very serious to Malin. "You are the King's Hand and the Kings is a fool. Your friend, I know, but a fool. And doomed unless you save him."

"I've been in the capitol a month. Why have you waited so long to tell me this?" Eddard asked.

"I didn't trust you," _Liar. He withheld whatever he's going to reveal until it would do him and his intricate web of a plan the most good. My father has a reputation for honour across the Kingdoms._

"So why do you tust me now?" _He doesn't he's using you!_

"The Queen is not the only one who has been watching you closely. There are few men of honour in the capitol, you are one of them. I would like to believe I am another, strange as that may seem." _Who are you serving honourably? I'd be suprised if it was a man you considered a fool._

"What sort of doom does the King face?" Malin could tell her father believed Varys, though he had some lingering suspicions.

"The same sort as Jon Arryn," _Jon Arryn? _Malin started and listened with renewed intensity. "The 'Tears of Lys' they call it," It was a poison that ate through a man's belly, Malin had come across it somewhere in her readings. "A rare and costly thing. As clear and tasteless as water, it leaves no trace."

"Who gave it to him?"

"Some dear friend, no doubt," Dear friends were frequently giving Malin poisoned drinks. Wasn't that the definition of friendship? "But which one? There were many. Lord Arryn was a kind and trusting man. There was one boy, all he was he owed to Jon Arryn."

"His squire Ser Hugh?" Her poor father, he didn't deserve to be used by Varys, especially when Varys was manipulating him about the death of his second father. Oh gods, what if her father did something here that led to him being killed? Malin would add Varys to her expanding list of those she hurt. And she didn't think she'd fall in like with the Spider.

"A pity what happended to him. Just when his life seemed to be going so nicely," Varys said his sickly sweetness present even when he was sarcastic.

"If Ser Hugh poisoned him, who paid Ser Hugh?"

"Someone who could afford it." _Wait. Gregor Clegane is a Lannister bannerman, Varys wants Father to think it's tied to the Lannisters. Why? _Malin wracked her brain, but when she missed something her father said, she packed it away in her mind for later.

"... He was hand for seventeen years, seventeen good years. Why kill him?"

"He started asking questions." _Fuck._

Malin slid down the tunnel wall, her mind whirring into a tangle. _Jaime and Cersei had three children. Robert and Cersei had none. I told Father to stop looking into the bastards, assuming he'd been looking for proof, not that he hadn't made a connection yet. The book on births in the noble families has gone to Father, so he has all the proof he'd need against Jaime and Cersei, but has he figured out about the children yet? Cersei's been watching him. Jon Arryn might or might not have been murdered by the Lannisters. Father might or might not know that Bran was pushed by Jaime. There was a second attempt, Robb said with a very distinctive knife. Cersei's hair was found in the tower. Varys wants us to think Jon Arryn was killed by the Lannisters. I'm not sure what's happening, but someone wants the Lannisters and the Starks at each other's throats._

"Father?" Malin's hands were trembling but she made her voice strong. Malin's stomache was clenching painfully, but she looked proud and confident, she hoped.

"What is it, Love?" Ned Stark asked, looking up from the very book Malin thought was so dangerous.

"I want to marry Jaime Lannister."

Ned Stark stared at her, his mouth hanging open, Malin was bit afraid he'd have a stroke, but then Arya burst in, "They said they were going to kill you!" Both Malin and Eddard turned to look at Arya, who looked as though she'd crawled through a tunnel that started among the dragon skulls. Malin had had to find a stream before she felt presentable enough to walk back through the castle.

"Who did?" asked Malin and her father at the same time.

"I didn't see them," Arya said, her brows furroughing together. "But I think one was fat," Arya said quickly.

"Varys!" escaped from Malin before she could help it.

"Oh, girls," said Ned pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I'm not lying! They said you found the bastard, and the wolves are fighting the lions, and the savage... something about the savage" said Arya while Malin said, "He wants us to fight the Lannisters! You can't look into the children, Father. Secure an alliance between our houses, with Tyrion if need be, for Gods' sake!"

Ned held out a hand to shush them. "Where did you hear this?" he asked Arya.

"In the dungeons. Near the dragon skulls," Arya said. Malin smiled, _I knew it!_

"What were you doing in the dungeons?" asked Ned.

"Chasing a cat." Arya said and Malin giggled.

"What's this about the Lannisters?" he asked, turning to Malin.

"Varys wants to pit us against the Lannisters. What Arya heard confirms it. You have to marry me into their family, secure an alliance, or some other family, the Tyrells. Don't let Robb do anything rash," Malin said, trying to place every word at the perfect volume and with the perfect intonation, so he'd take her seriously.

Jory knocked at the door and stepped inside before Eddard could respond to either of them. "Pardon, My Lord. There's a Night's Watchmen here, begging a word. Says it's urgent."

Malin grabbed Arya's hand and leaned down, "We can listen, but hurry." Arya nodded and they both hurried to the tunnel Malin'd been hiding in, not a few hours past.

"...for his sake I rode here so hard I damned near killed my horse," Malin felt a bit nauseous at this. "There are others riding too. The whole city will know by tomorrow."

"Know what?" Eddard asked. Malin squeezed Arya's hand tighter her, whole body coiled so tightly Malin could barely breathe.

"It's about your wife, Milord," in the pause the Night's Watchmen left, Malin could feel every beat of her heart in her fingertips. _This is it, _she thought.

"She's taken the imp."

Malin ran. Her breath came in bursts and she thought she was going to fall over. Bile rose and she spit it out and kept running. When Malin got to the White Sword Tower she saw Barriston the Bold leaving.

"Ser! Please! Please do you know where Ser Jaime's gone?" Malin asked desperately, clutching Barriston Selmy's arm.

"He went into the city. I think he was headed towards River Row." Malin thanked him profusely and headed towards the stables. Was Jaime hiring men?

Malin's hatred of horseback riding was gone after being inside of Quick-hoove's mind, though she now felt a little bad for the horses who carried men in their armour, and she spent the next few hours desperately searching for Jaime. He could've hired men by now, he could've killed her father, but how? Her father was the King's Hand, Jaime was brash but he wasn't stupid. She had to find him.

Malin was rounding the corner down a street filled with brothels, when she saw her father. Malin flung herself from her horse and was running towards her father, Jory, Heward, and Young Wyle when soldiers streamed out in Lannister colours, surrounding them. Jaime rode on his stupid white horse.

"Jaime!" Malin screamed. One of the guards grabbed her arms but she broke free and ran at the circle. The guard grabbed her hair and waist and jerked her back roughly. "Jaime, please! Please don't do this!" Jaime blew her a sarcastic kiss and Malin's heart went cold. Had he never liked her? What was going on, why would he blow a kiss at her like that? She might murder Joffrey one day, but even at her angriest, Malin wouldn't do it in front of Jaime, with a kiss that cut like a sword.

"Such a small pack of wolves," Jaime said, dismounting.

"Stay back, Ser. This is the Hand of the King," Jory said.

"Jaime, please! I didn't know my mother took Tyrion! We'll free him!" Malin pleaded. Jaime didn't even give her a cold glance but her father said, "Malin!" sharply.

"_Was _the Hand of the King. Now I'm not sure what he is, the Lord of somewhere very far away," Jaime said.

"What's the meaning of this, Lannister?" Petyr Baelish asked, coming out of the brothel.

"Get back inside! Where it's safe," Jaime contemptously ordered Littlefinger. "I'm looking for my brother. You remember my brother, don't you Lord Stark? Blonde hair, sharp tongue, short man."

"I remember him well."

"Seems he's had some trouble on the road. You wouldn't know what happened to him would you?"

"He was taken at my command to answer for his crimes." _Oh, Father no, _Malin thought as she kicked and hit the guardsman behind her. Malin got an arm free, it was enough to elbow the man in the nose. He let go of her with a curse and Malin pushed his broken nose into his brain before pushing partways through the circle.

"Father!" Jaime snapped his fingers and two men held Malin's arms. He drew his sword.

"My Lords!" Baelish exclaimed in dismay. Then, "I'll bring the City Watch," before retreating inside the brothel.

"Come, Stark. I'd rather you die sword in hand." Malin suddenly felt very still.

"If you threaten my lord again..." Jory threatened but Malin barely heard him. Suddenly, there were pinpricks of light all around, waiting for Malin.

"Threaten? As in, 'I'm going to open your Lord from balls to brains and see what Starks are made of?'" Malin's consciousness swooshed out to every animal in King's Landing.

"You kill me, your brother's a dead man," Malin the rat heard Eddard Stark say.

"You're right. Take him alive, kill his men," Malin the ant heard Jaime Lannister say.

Every animal, rat, cat, horse, chicken, dog, snake, bird, ant, fly, anyone, everyone, focused on the Lannister soldiers. And then they attacked. Malin died so many times she thought she would go insane, but everytime an animal died, another animal was just reaching the frey and took their place. Soldiers fell beneath bees who stung them hundreds of times, and rats and cats who scratched at their faces. The armour helped, but when Malin lived as Long-Wind, Jaime's horse, they killed three men and wounded Jaime himself. Malin was ferocious dogs who tore at the guards who restrained her human body and she saw rather than felt herself sit dumbly in the street. Some of the dogs were hard to rein in when the soldiers broke under the onslaught and ran. Jaime slayed many an animal while they fought to keep him in the corner they'd backed him into. He was saved from a pack of bees stinging him by the arrival of the City Watch. Malin released the animals and made her trembling legs stand. She walked over to Jaime where he sat in the corner, the City Watch mutely letting her pass, and she crouched down to his level.

"You suck," Malin said before kissing him, and then breaking his nose.


	6. Chapter 6

Apologies all, my chapter is a bit late this week (really late) for a multitude of reasons. I'm going to take a second (or longer) to tell you about the ones that super piss me off. Aren't you glad we live in an era where everyone thinks we all want to know every inane thought they have? 1. NEVER BUY COMCAST their internet sucks (or atleast their internet at my house sucks) 2. I really hate when you think you have some horrible disease, like swamp fever, and then the docter's like, 'just a cold!' It is not just a cold, it's a humongous-monster-terrible-bonecq`1 rusher cold and it wants to eat you. 3. Do not abuse your computers. I've gone through four laptops in as many years and now no one wants to buy me another one. My general lazy-slobness prevents me from getting a job and buying myself a new one with sound. It has become hard to get "}through GoT w/o sound. Sorry for the spiel, thanks to Stark-Lannister for commenting, I'm going to try to churn out multiple chapters per week, we'll see how that goes, and thanks for all the favorites, follows, & reviews!

"You look like you've been sleeping with a dung shoveler."

"You look like a golden haired shit. That puts me a cut above you, since I'm sleeping with a man who's many times your size and shoveless your lifeless smelly ass about," Malin replied, extremely wounded and confused by Jaime, so of course everything out of her mouth was simply brimming with wit. Jaime sat at his desk in his rooms in the White Sword tower, his back to her, the desk facing one of the few windows. Malin walked to his side and kneeled, her hands on his knee, her face upturned. "What did I do Jaime?"

"Cersei told me," he said, still not looking at her.

"Told you what?" Malin asked timidly, afraid of the answer.

Jaime stood, pulling her with him, and then pushing her roughly against the desk. "She told me that your family put you in my way to distract me while they tried to have mine beheaded," he pushed her legs apart and fumbled at his laces. "Distract me, Nymphet. Remind me why I strayed," he pushed insistently between her legs and Malin struggled to get away.

"What's wrong with you?" Malin half-sobbed, scrambling away from him. "My father doesn't want me to have anything to do with you!" Jaime picked Malin up and threw her onto his bed, not bothering to turn her around, just lifting up her skirt and positioning himself at her entrance. He paused long enough that Malin looked over her shoulder and through a veil of tears, saw him sitting dejectedly at the edge of the bed, shoulders hunched in, looking at himself with something like disbelief. Malin threw herself sobbing into his arms, "Don't you ever do that again you MORON!" Jaime's arms wrapped around Malin and he rocked her while she sobbed.

"Are you insane?!" Malin asked, sitting up to wipe her tears away and delicately (ha) blow her nose into her handkerchief. "I told my father I wanted to marry you and he couldn't speak for several moments," Malin said, burrowing back into Jaime's arms. "What's the matter with you?" Malin asked, lightly hitting his chest. She hit him again a little harder. Her blows fell like raindrops during a hurricane, until Malin was exhausted and hiccuping, while Jaime rocked her, and stroked her hair, and murmured, "I'm sorry, It won't happen again, I'm sorry, It won't happen again," over and over.

When Malin woke up several hours later, the sky that showed through the windows was dark, and she was stretched out on the bed and covered with Jaime's down comforter. Jaime sat at the edge of the bed, his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands.

"What's the matter, Kingslayer?" Malin asked gently.

"I'm a soldier, not a maester or plotter, but it seems that everyone around me is working towards something, and I don't know what. Tyrion would"

"If you lay down, I'll tell you what _I_ know, since I'm not just a plotter but a maester-ful plotter," Malin joked lamely, propped on her elbow, studying the muscles in his back that moved as he aquiesced. Jaime laid down and Malin scooted closer, his arms coming around her, her head finding it's spot on his chest. "Arya heard someone, most likely Varys, and some other man talking about how my father found the bastard, the wolves are fighting the lions, and something about a savage. Varys told my father that Jon Arryn was murdered by his squire, who in turn was murdered by Gregor Clegane, your bannerman. Robb said they found Cersei's hair in the tower after the second attempt on Bran's life. Jaime..." Malin trailed off unsure how to ask what she wanted to ask.

"I do my own killing," he told her and Malin nodded tersely, grateful the second attempt hadn't been orchestrated by him.

"Mother suspects your loyalty to the crown, but wouldn't say why. And the knife the killer used was dragon bone and valyrian steel, too fine for him."

"Do you know what bastard Varys was speaking of?"

"Robert's," Malin said, her eyes on his face, wondering if he'd know why Robert's bastards were dangerous.

"Your father's looking into Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tommen's parentage," he looked down at her sharply.

"He's following Jon Arryn's footsteps, he hasn't figured out why Jon Arryn was interested yet."

"The bastards take after Robert?"

"Yes. Just his bastards aren't enough evidence for Father to go to the King," Malin said, studiously avoiding his eyes.

"Varys is pitting the Starks against the Lannisters. Why?" Jaime asked, deep in thought. Malin was grateful Jaime was too distracted to notice she'd omitted the book. Malin wasn't certain what would go back to Cersei and didn't trust the Queen to leave her father alone.

"A war between our houses would tear the realm apart. I'm not sure how he'd profit from that, unless he wanted to open the realm for an invading power who'd give him a bigger bag of gold," Malin said, half-joking.

"What happened in front of the brothel, Malin?"

"Are you going to give the High Septon a big enough bag of gold that he lets you marry me?"

"Break a vow? The honourable Jaime Lannister? Never." Jaime said sarcastically.

Malin propped herself up so she could see him better, "You are honourable aren't you? You didn't kill my father after he was stabbed through the leg, and you take the Kingsguard seriously." Malin looked at him with no small amount of wonder in her gaze. "I have to go," she said, crawling over him.

"Malin," he grabbed her arm.

"You're never going to marry me. The longer I stay with you, the more shattered I'm going to be. I'll get my father to marry me and Arya to Lannisters, and our houses won't fight then. Tyrion doesn't look like you, and perhaps he won't mind if I don't love him at first," Malin pulled her arm free, shocked and reeling, and just trying to get away from Jaime.

Jaime caught her by the waist, "You're not marrying Tyrion."

"It won't work if we don't marry into the main branch of your family. Let me go, Jaime," Malin said, having trouble not relaxing into his arms.

"You might float away," he said tightening his arms. Malin remembered telling him she'd float away if he let go, but that was weeks ago, she hadn't expected Jaime to remember. "Let me think Malin. I haven't been thinking about-"

Malin gasped and held up a hand to shush him, "Jaime, you have to take me to an apothecary. Tonight."

"What do you-" Malin couldn't see the look of comprehension dawn on his face but she almost felt him realize what she meant. Malin knew it was a gamble, they'd been sleeping together for about a month, not enough time to be certain of anything, and Jaime wasn't really the fatherly type, he'd told her he didn't like Joffrey, though Malin privately thought that didn't really mean anything, but Malin was hoping he'd be concerned for her reputation. They'd just have to go at it like wolves to make certain he never found out she'd lied.

Jaime swung her around to face him, "Do you mean...?"

Malin nodded solemnly, her eyes searching his face for signs of what he might do.

"Are you sure?" Jaime's eyes scanned her face.

"No. But the apothecary will be, and if I'm right, they'll take care of it."

"What if you kept it?"

"I'd be quickly married to a minor lord who wouldn't care I was deflowered, or I'd be dishonoured and shunned, neither of which are attractive options. I have always wanted a baby though," Malin's eyes took on a faraway look as she imagined a lovely green-eyed boy toddling about.

"We've got three or four months. Can I... Can I think?"

"You've got two months. I'm not taking any chances with whisperers."

He nodded and pulled her into bed beside him. Malin thought she heard him say, "A baby..." with a touch of amusement and wonder, but she was halfways to sleep and thought she must've dreamed it.

'_You've done more than I expected,' the crow told her as they flapped over Westeros._

_ "I've done more than _I _expected. I didn't know it was possible to control so many animals at one time," Malin told him, her crow's wings lovely and inky in the night sky._

_ "You must sow," the crow said cryptically_

_ "What?" Malin asked, confused. The crow just cawed and soared towards the sun. Malin tried to follow, but the higher she went, the warmer her feathers got, until they melted away like wax and Malin plummeted towards the earth._

"Your Grace," Malin stood and curtsied as the King walked in, followed by the Queen. Malin had been keeping vigil over her father's bedside for hours and was suprised to see the King. Cassella had told her they'd had a falling out.

"Stand up, Girl. You can't stay bent over like that until he wakes up," Robert boomed.

"You plan to stay then, Your Grace?" Malin asked, rising prettily from her curtsy.

The King gave her a curious look, as if he hadn't truly seen her before, "You look just like her." Malin smiled uncertainly, while the Queen blanched whiter than anyone had a right to be and shot daggers at Malin with her eyes. The King was boisterious and very attentive to Malin, so much so that she began to relax and every once in a while, a smile reached her eyes. The queen sat in frosty silence. Malin was every so often uncomfortable with one of King Robert's jokes, but in general she was enjoying the Queen's unhappiness and her escape from her rooms, where she was supposed to be. Then, Jory limped in.

"Malin! Where've you been? We've had guards looking for you!" Jory said.

"And none of them thought to check my father's sickbed?" Malin asked under her breath, before taking her leave of the King and Queen. Jory sternly escorted her back to her rooms. Arya, Malin, and Sansa were guarded day and night, but Malin had always had trouble staying in cages, gilded or not. Vŭltsi had even more trouble staying inside, and so Malin had figured out a way to lower the direwolf into the tunnel that ran beneath their rooms. Almost as soon as Jory left them alone, Malin changed into her serving girl clothes and threw a hooded cloak over her shoulders, grabbed the last few coins she'd made selling her things, and dropped down into the tunnel, helping Vŭltsi after her. They were off to the apothecary.

The streets were buzzing with news of Jaime's attack. Some were whispering that Lord Stark took the Imp to warn Jaime away from his daughter. Some said the daughter had been caught with Jaime's babe in her belly. Some hushed when they saw the direwolf by the hooded girl's side. Malin took Vŭltsi outside before heading to the herb shop, no sense inspiring anymore rumours. Half of Malin's mind was running with Vŭltsi, while the other half walked through the press of people towards the shop Cassella had mentioned buying her potions from. Of course, Cassella bought potions that did the opposite of what Malin was hoping for, which had shocked Sansa to no end. Cassella had come over while Malin was embroidering vests for her brothers and Sansa was stitching shirts for the poor. Sansa's mouth fell open and she left quickly when Cassella mentioned how she needed to restock on her moon tea. Malin barely restrained a snicker.

Taking a deep breath, Malin pushed open the door to the little shop and was immediately assualted by the stench of various herbs and potions. Drying herbs were hanging from the ceiling, and the room was cluttered with bottles labeled in tiny, even handwriting. A young woman, perhaps sixteen or seventeen, was behind the counter, her nose buried in a book. She had yellow hair and slanting yellow-green cat eyes that smiled when her mouth did. Malin liked her instantly. She liked the girl, who's name turned out to be Sheira, even more when she saw the book was written in High Valyrian.

"What can I do you for?" Sheira asked after they'd talked for a bit, largely about how Sheira came to speak High Valyrian.

"I was hoping you'd have something to help with babies," Malin said, flushing with embaressment.

"Getting rid of one?" Sheira asked, lowering her voice.

"No! Uh, making one?" Malin said, mortified by having such a personal exchange.

"Of course!" Sheira said, bounding up from her chair and walking towards a shelf of rose glass bottles with dried packets of herbs inside. She pulled one down and winked at Malin, "This should do the trick. One bag everyday until they're gone, and you should be fat, cranky, and glowing with happiness before you know it!" She ushered Malin out the door. "Come back and visit someday, you hear?" Sheira asked, as she waved cheerily from her stoop. Malin waved back, a little cowed by the older girl's cheery energy and enthusiasm.

Vŭltsi was waiting for Malin by the King's Gate, and Malin sternly looked at her direwolf's dirty bloodied muzzle, before relenting and kissing her on the top of the head. They walked back towards their tunnel entrance, both atleast mildly satisfied with their few hours of freedom. When they reached the opening of the tunnel, they came upon Varys, calmly sitting on top of the tunnel's entrance. He was dressed as a begging brother, in a filthy patched robe, with dirt-crusted bare feet, and a bowl about his neck on a leather thong. He smelled so strongly that Malin had trouble resisting the urge to hold her nose.

"My Lord," Malin said, curtsying. Varys looked at her, a little shocked.

"My Lady," he greeted her. "How is it you knew me? Most would be fooled."

Malin shrugged, a very Braavosi gesture she'd picked up from Cassella, "Same man, different clothes."

Varys looked pained, "A different smell, way of walking, look, most men would be decieved."

"I'm so often looking for the little rats who titter about behind me, it's become second nature to look beyond the garb. Besides, I find women are more often able to see beyond outward appearances than men are. You weren't waiting for me long, I hope?" Malin wasn't stupid, Varys' being here was a message. He found her, while she was disguised, to tell her he knew she walked around not just as Malin Stark. He'd found her at the entrance to her tunnel to tell her he used them as she did, and knew more than she did. Or perhaps he was warning her away from the tunnels. Who truly knew what the eunuch wanted or meant?

"No, not long, " Varys tittered. "Though, I did wonder what might bring a young lady so early from her bed?"

"I've always been a restless sleeper, the littlest things wake me up." _Like you creeping about in the tunnels. _"I find that walks help me to sleep. Sometimes I find myself wandering among the dragonskulls. They're fascinating aren't they, Lord Varys?" Malin watched Varys' face closely and smiled when he looked at her sharply, a triumphant little smile playing about her lips.

"Fascinating but dangerous," here he gave an exaggerated shudder. "Imagine how sharp their points must be, even after all these years." Malin smiled calmly at his veiled threat. Varys might kill her if he thought she could seriously jeopordize his plans, but she was willing to bet he would either underestimate a thirteen year-old or trust that she was smart enough to have a way of spreading what she knew if she was harmed.

"Very sharp, I'm sure. Would you care to walk with me back to the castle Lord Varys or do you have other business to attend to?"

"No, I'm afraid I have other things to do, another time perhaps," Varys smiled obesquiously, but Malin sensed he was rather put out. _I wonder what he planned to say originally?_

Malin watched with Vŭltsi against her side and Nymeria at her feet as Arya and her "dancing master" exchanged blows. The Braavosi water dance was entrancing, fluid and graceful, Malin was almost jealous of Arya. Then she saw a hit land harder than it should have and remembered how much more painful learning a sword was than learning to sew. Malin gave Nymeria a goodbye pet before leaving for Cassella's rooms.

"Did you hear your father's to be regent while the King's off hunting?" asked Cassella without looking up from her book.

"No, but I'm sure he'll have a grand time," Malin said, closing the door behind her and sitting opposite Cassella, while Vŭltsi headed for the narrow patch of sun that shone through the room's only window.

Cassella closed her book abruptly and leaned forward, a challenging look on her face, "You'll never guess who came to visit me today."

"Who?" Malin asked carefully.

"Varys. He offered me quite a few pretties if I'd report what we talk about to him. 'A great service to the realm,' he said." Cassella eyed Malin warily, "What are you doing to make them nervous Malin?"

"The less you know, the better, but I haven't done a thing to make 'them' nervous. I've done one thing to ruffle Cersei and another to ruffle Varys.

"You're playing with wildfire, Malin," Cassella said imploringly. "You're not equipped to fight off the most powerful people in court. It's not possible!"

Malin kept her voice low but intensity leaked into it anyway, "I'm not trying to fight anyone. I want to make sure my family's safe, and I have to marry Jaime. _Soon."_

Cassella's eyebrows shot up, "Well, that's unexpected." She paused in thought while Malin made sure her features were arranged in a mask of worry and concern. "You should come to Braavos with me. I'm leaving in a few weeks and no one would really care there."

"Oh, I couldn't impose, Jaime's thinking about marriage and I think I can push him in the right direction. I'd have to ask my father..."

"You wouldn't be imposing at all, besides what're you going to miss that's so important? Nothing." Seeing Malin's 'maybe' on her face, Cassella waved her hand through the air as if breaking up a cloud, "Think about it, ask your father, and let me know, yes? Now, have you read the new Steay poems?"

"Of course. How did you like 'The Tower'?"

"'What shall I do with this absurdity?'" Cassella quoted, her eyebrow cocked.

"Ser, Jaime Lannister has come to call," the maid said nervously. Malin's fingers involuntarily clenched around her fork while her head jerked up. Arya, Sansa, and their father looked up in suprise aswell. Eddard's face quickly darkened and Malin begin to worry about what Jaime had come for. Dinner had not been a happy affair recently, with Sansa's cold disapproval and Arya's molten anger, and suprisingly, the maid's message did nothing to brighten the mood. "He wishes," the maid swallowed nervously, "he wishes to discuss the Lady Malin Stark." Arya looked at Malin suspiciously while Sansa looked unnervingly happy and Eddard's face looked even stormier than before. Malin's knuckles were white from her grip on her fork.

"Show him to my rooms," Eddard said, wiping his mouth and standing up from the table. Malin looked at Arya and Sansa, and surreptitiously put down her utensils, preparing to rush up to her father's keyhole to eavesdrop. Malin grinned when she saw Sansa and Arya do the same, a split second before the three of them rushed for the door, tumbling over each other in their haste to listen in. The three of them fought silently at the keyhole, but Arya prevailed over Malin's dirty tricks and Sansa's ability to insert herself while her sisters were occupied with each other, by being unafraid to pinch until her sisters moved.

"What's he saying?" Sansa whispered, loudly enough the whole castle could've heard her. Arya pinched her and shot her a glare that clearly said, 'Shut up!' The only thing Malin was able to make out was who was talking when, so she waited rather impatiently for Arya's description afterwards. They all sat with their ears pressed against the door for a few minutes more, until Arya shot back from the door and waved her hands before shooting down the stairs, Malin and Sansa close on her heels. They skidded into Arya's room while Malin heard Jaime's voice descending down the stair they'd just left.

"What'd they say?" Sansa demanded, settling onto Arya's bed. Malin sat cross-legged on the floor watching Arya, waiting as calmly as she could.

"The Kingslayer was rude- sort of arrogant-" Arya began, as if settling in for a long story.

"That's his usual manner," Malin interrupted, earning her a smile from Sansa and a scowl from Arya.

"Anyway, he asked father's forgiveness. He said, 'he wouldn't wish to upset you with their discord.'" Arya said, abandoning her earlier attempt at storytelling and simply finishing her tale.

"How romantic!" Sansa swooned. Arya snorted in derision and Malin's eyes rolled before they could help themselves.

"Did Jaime really apologize?" Malin asked, looking at Arya from the corner of her eye and pretending to nonchalance.

"Of course he did," Sansa said, as if it was natural for Jaime to apologize. "He loves you, Malin."

Malin snorted in derision, "I doubt that. I'm just amazed he apologized."

"I think ir's rather historic, the first Lannister apology," Arya said.

"Joffrey apologized to me today," Sansa said, fingering a necklace Malin hadn't noticed before and blushing prettily.

"Joffrey _isn't_ a Lannister,"Arya said forcefully.

Malin coughed vigourously, preventing Sansa's rebuttal. Oh, her sisters! What zany fun they all got into!

It was a week later, when King Robert had gone off on his hunting trip, that Malin came to understand the true dangers of honour, in a court of vipers with lies dripping from their fangs. She and Cassella stood off to the side in the throne room, a place where most couldn't see her, but the Kingsguard around her father could. A group of rather ragged peasants had come in, talking about how Gregor Clegane had hurt their women and destroyed their homes. Malin would've liked to pay better attention, but Cassella was the type of person who believes the world is a cold cruel place, and she had the worldliness and cynicism to ignore the ragged men. Malin did not. However, Cassella's mouth dropped with everyone else's when Eddard Stark, Regent in Robert's absence and Hand in his presence, called Tywin Lannister to court to answer for his bannerman's crimes. Malin's hands, buried beneath her dagged sleeves, buried their nails into each other so furiously that later Malin would see blood. Now, she was so focused on her father that she hardly even noticed the pain. When Eddard left the throne room, Malin saw Jaime give her a tense nod. She hoped it meant they were okay. Malin didn't fully realize that Cassella had led her out of the throne room until she felt the sun on her face.

"I'm alright," she told her friend, smiling unconvincingly.

"You're alright?" Cassella asked dryly, "Your father just arrested your lover's father. Merry Yuletide Marley Blown."

"I"m so thankful for your kind wishes of felicity," Malin returned primly, ignoring her friend's sarcasim.

"He did WHAT?!" Malin whirled, her eyes blazing, skirts whirling about her legs. She stalked up and down the room, feeling the urge to rip through things with her teeth and howl at the moon. She felt a wave of fur ripple into existence and just as quickly, crash, and break upon her skin. The stableboy, who was only a few years Malin's senior, quailed beneath her fury. He was Malin's spy and he'd brought the news to her much too late. Admittedly, she paid him in looks and smiles and hints of what might be, but that he should bring her news of Jaime ordering a horse in the night, the next morning?! Malin needed atleast one spy, so she calmed herself, instead of screaming in rage and frustration as she wished to. She graciously saw the boy out, leaving him with a smile that promised many things. As soon as the door closed, Malin's painted mask slid off and was replaced by her uncontrolled mask of skin. _What can I do? How can I put this to my advantage? What can I do? What can I do, what can I do, what can I do? _Malin slammed into her room, immediately resuming her pacing. _Jaime needs to think I'm certain, he needs to chase me a bit, and he needs to think I might leave him. Hiding in Braavos with Cassella might make him think I'm hiding a baby, Braavos is far enough away to consider it a chase, but he might forget about me if I go so far away._ Malin stamped her foot in frustration and stormed out, Vŭltsi following on her heels.

It took only moments for Malin to swish to the stables and have her horse brought. Malin rode away without a saddle, feeling like a brave Dothraki horsewoman. The guards who stopped her at the gate, faded under her glare and the imperious tone of her voice. With her horse, whose name Malin, had recently learned, was Waterdancer, flying beneath her and Vŭltsi loping along beside her, Malin began to understand how the Dothraki gave up running water to ride their horses from place to place. It reminded Malin of flying as Biter, she felt her horse would soon take to the skies on painted wings. She rode until Waterdancer, who loved to feel the earth disappear under her hooves, no longer had any inclination to continue, and then they trotted gently towards a streambed for Waterdancer and Vŭltsi to drink from. Malin sat against a tree, and pushed the wisps of hair that had fallen loose from her northern braids off her face. _I don't know what to do. There's no perfect, logical solution. If I go with Cassella- Well, that seems to be the best option. I suppose I'll tell her I'm coming, and if something that works better comes along, I'll hope she understands._ Still feeling dissatisified for not being able to think of a better solution, Malin and her animals left their resting place, Malin walking to help revive Waterdancer.

It was dark when Malin arrived back at the keep and she silently cursed herself for missing lunch and dinner when she'd only gotten half of her meal the other night. Malin cursed Jaime a little more harshly for what he was going to make her do.

Her hair braided and nightgown on, Malin sent her mind creeping out, until she found a little mouse. _Perfect. _

_Malin the Mouse creeped forward on tiny pink paws, nose darting out of her hole to scent the air. No one. They scurried forward, heading to the exiled prince's rooms. Is that- Is that _**CHEESE? **_Malin pulled away from the cheese, chastising her host, as they continued to scurry along, avoiding cats, rats, and people. Everything was large and rather frightening and a source of almost infinite curiousity for both Malin and the mouse, Cheese, but they carried on, coming eventually to Jalabhar Xho's rooms. Past the door, Malin could feel two brilliant pinpricks of light that showed her where the Summer Island talking birds were. Malin bid goodbye to Cheese and flowed over floorboards, under the door, and into the bright red bird's wire cage, directly into it's mind._

_ Kirei the bird felt Malin was being rather rude in intruding, but accepted her presence nonetheless when Malin told her they were leaving the prince. Kirei explained how she had been rather worried the ebony man planned to make her into one of his feather capes. Malin pulled Cheese inside and used the mouse to open the cage. Kirei, though a rather small bird, wasn't small enough to fit into Cheese's tunnels. This caused both Malin and Kirei a moment of thought but one of them, with their identities so close it was rather hard to tell who, decided to hop into the cage and pretend they were stuck inside. They then proceeded to make an excessive amount of rude conversation at the Summer Island Prince, in an attempt to wake him, which suceeded. Jalabhar Xho swore and hurled himself out of bed, evidently still drunk from the night's revels. The moment he flung open the cage door, Malin and Kirei flew out. They hit upon another snag when they realized the door still wasn't open and their plan hadn't been so inspired. Malin decided the plan must have come from the bird, who mentally shot her a dirty look. This was when they noticed the open window. Both feeling a little sheepish for missing the obvious, they darted out the window, and flapped towards Casterly Rock._

_ It was several hours later when Malin and Kirei's wings felt too exhausted for another stroke against the currents. Kirei had been ready to stop a few hours ago, but Malin asserted her control, though it was rather distasteful to do so over one so sentient, and they had flapped until their wings were literally trembling with fatigue. They'd tried to let the air carry them for as much of the way as possible and Malin doubted they would've made it thus far if it hadn't been for Kirei's ability to sense hot and cold air currents. Malin vaguely knew what to look for, it came with the territory, but she didn't have any honed ability. Kirei did. While they settled into their resting tree, Malin's mind furiously clicked through her various worries. She was going to be comatose in her bed until they found Jaime, her father was dying, Jaime might find out she'd lied about her pregnancy- not that she'd said she was certaim- but with Jaime gone there would never be a pregnancy to pressure him into marriage, she had to make him marry her, what game was Varys playing? What did Cersei know? Should she go with Cassella? What puzzle peice was she over- QUIET! Kirei burst in, silencing Malin's swirl of bird grumbled about the headache she was getting, before retreating back to her corner of consciousness. Malin counted sheep to avoid drowning in her whirlpool of thoughts again, eventually drifiting off._

_ When Malin woke up, Kirei was drifting on an airdrift with Casterly Rock a barely visible speck in the distance. The bird greeted her gruffly and Malin stretched out, tendrils coming to rest in each limb._

_ 'We're tired from yesterday,' Malin observed, a little accusingly._

_ 'And sore," Kirei said, unrepentant. 'We'll be there by midnight if we continue as we have been. Your mate might still be on the roads, it'll take longer but we should follow them if we hope to meet him before Casterly Rock.'_

_ 'The roads would be good,' Malin said. She thought someone might think it passing odd for Jaime Lannister to be talking to a bird, and they were less likely to notice some strangeness on the road. They flew for maybe another hour before Malin spotted Jaime stopped by a stream. Kirei obliged her by controlling their dive. Malin thought a human, even if they could fly, diving at such speed might cause their brain to pop or some such nonsense. They hurtled through the sky, amazingly fast, alarmingly fast, and Malin let out a feral screech at the joy of the wind under her wings. They landed much more delicately than Malin might have expected, and hopped towards where Jaime sat._

_ "Jaime," Malin the bird said, watching as he stood and half-drew his sword._

_ "A ghost? I warn you spirit, I fear no grumpkins," Jaime said, a cocky grin stretched across his face as he looked through the underbrush for a speaker._

_ "Would you fear my foot up your ass? How dare you leave King's Landing without telling me!" Malin squawked, her feathers ruffling in irritation._

_ "Malin?" Jaime asked in disbelief, looking at the small brightly coloured bird he'd overlooked before._

_ "No, I'm a grumpkin." Malin said acerbically with a derogatory coo._

_ "You're a bird!" he exclaimed. Malin smacked him with a wing, prompting Jaime to catch her and hold her against his chest. "What're you doing here Malin?" Jaime asked._

_ "What am _I _doing here? What're you doing here?" Malin pecked him on the arm and he dropped her, letting her bird body fly back into a tree. Jaime sighed and sat down to explain. It was several hours later when Malin left Kirei and flew over the miles to her own brain. _

Malin slipped in with a pop she knew only she could hear and opened her eyes slowly, blinking as the room lost it's fuzzy edges and came back into focus. Septa Mordane sat snoring quietly by her bed, a pair of knitting needles and ball of yarn dangling from her hands. Sansa burst into the room just as Malin was rolling over, and Malin cursed her twin's uncanny timing. Septa Mordane snorted in her sleep and rolled over, ignoring Sansa's dramatic entrance. Malin envied her.

"Did you know Father was sending us home?" Sansa half-asked half-accused tearfully.

"He is?" Malin asked, only realizing as she spoke that days within someone else's body didn't make talking melodious, but rather alarmingly raspy.

"We're leaving Joffrey!" Sansa wailed, running from the room.

Malin snorted. "Thank the gods," she said.


End file.
